


Unraveled

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, Boys in Chains, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by RavenD and kimberlite</p><p>Qui-Gon searches for his lost padawan<br/>after the events of Woven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).
> 
> Title: Unraveled (0/22)  
> Authors: RavenD and  
> kimberlite   
> Archive: M_A, BiC, World of Pretty Boys, everyone  
> else please ask  
> Authors' webpages:  
> http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams and  
> http://www.ravenswing.com/kimberlite  
> Series: Yes -- Sequel to Woven  
> Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
> Rating: NC-17 for violence and graphic sex  
> Warnings: Violence, graphic and sometimes  
> disturbing sexual images  
> Pairing: O/other, Q/other, Q/O  
> Spoilers: none  
> Summary: Qui-Gon searches for his lost padawan  
> after the events of Woven.  
> Feedback: Pretty please, with sugar on top?  
> Disclaimers: The almighty Lucas owns everything.  
> We own nothing. Happy?  
> Authors' Notes Please be aware that this is truly  
> a sequel to "Woven" and may not make a lot of  
> sense without having read that fic.
> 
> RavenD:
> 
> When I began this project, I thought I needed  
> kimberlite to beta for me. Not two paragraphs  
> into it, I realized I needed her to write with  
> me. Co-writing with her has been a truly joyous  
> experience in collaboration. She entered into a  
> little world I created and made it part of her  
> own. Thank you.
> 
> I would also like to give thanks to my  
> ever-patient and talented beta-readers. Mystique,  
> you force me to remain true to my voice. Velma, I  
> always know if you like it, I must be heading  
> somewhere right. Liz, you are Beauty's muse.
> 
> kimberlite:
> 
> I was thrilled when RavenD asked me to share in  
> her vision, and am grateful beyond words for the  
> opportunity to work with such a talented and  
> unique person. The entire process of writing this  
> story has been exciting and wonderful. Thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> \--  
> Sleep: A completely inadequate substitute for  
> caffeine.
> 
> Want your own Jedi sex slave? Ask me how!
> 
> The Raven Dreams  
> http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams
> 
> WebMistress for the Boys in Chains Slave!Fic  
> Archive  
> http://www.ravenswing.com/bic/

Pain. He couldn't make it stop, couldn't hide  
from it, release it, breathe through it. His  
muscles clenched with this need, this unbearable  
heat.

He walked, nameless, bloody, lost, forgotten  
within the shattered singing of his own mind,  
slowly wandering down the damp alleys, looking for  
something he'd lost.

If he could only remember what that was.

Another bright bolt of pain ricocheted in his head  
and he dropped to his knees in the filth. Breath  
hitching in his chest, he crawled towards the  
shadows cast by bleak, gray buildings, avoiding  
the light. He curled into the wall of a building,  
wrapping the warm cloak he wore around him, trying  
to displace the shivers within him.

He slept, or at least he dreamed; he dreamed of  
gardens and home and peace and clean water and oh,  
he could remember being clean and dry and warm and  
safe and a time when there was no pain.  
Somewhere, once upon a time, when there was food  
and he could eat and a bed and blue eyes. Someone  
had blue eyes that smiled, someone who would have  
looked for him if he was lost and he was lost and  
so tired and hurting and the pain never went away,  
never let him breathe, nevernevernever...

"If you don't stop hitting your head on that wall,  
Beauty, they're gonna lock you up."

What? What was that? Did someone...

"Jessup's Upturned Nose, you're a sight, Beauty.  
Let me see your face."

He turned his face to the wall, away from the  
light; he couldn't stand the light.

"Too much sun for you, eh? That's pretty normal.  
Not to worry. I can fix you up, make it stop  
hurting."

He looked up into the shadowed face with flashing  
white teeth. That face was laughing, but hadn't  
it said no pain?

"Yes, Beauty. No more pain. I can make it stop.  
Give me your hand for a second." He raised his  
hand and felt it grasped by cold, bony fingers.  
"Good boy."

He felt a sharp pain and then a falling. He sank  
into a warm brightness where there was no pain,  
nothing but fierce wonder and joy.

"Yes, Beauty, so much better. Let me help you  
up. Come on with me. I'll fix you up. I'll keep  
the pain away."

He stood and followed, leaving the cloak in a  
puddle behind him.

*****

The whip sliced, fast and deep and he moaned  
beneath it, hips rocking in a crude parody of  
sex. The thin leather straps encircling his  
wrists were more to remind him of his position  
than to bind him. The scent of blood was in the  
air and he could hear the cries of pain and  
pleasure filling the smoky space around him.

He had forgotten how to differentiate which were  
his.

The figure behind him was skilled, living up to  
the challenge that had been thrown.

Beauty had stood, swaying to the blaring music,  
poured into latex, face and shoulder-length hair  
streaked with glitter, his eyes lined in black,  
nipples rouged. The tall man had walked up to  
him, kissed him roughly, deeply. Beauty had been  
relaxed, unresponsive, a hint of challenge in his  
pose.

The man pulled back and his eyes fell to the  
collar fastened around Beauty's neck. "Whose  
collar do you wear?"

"My own." Beauty's voice was ice; he felt it form  
icicles on his lips.

There was a slow blink of mottled brown eyes.  
"You belong to no one? How odd."

"I belong to myself."

The man laughed sharply, throwing back thick  
auburn hair, which shone in the violet lights  
illuminating the room. "What's your name, boy?"

"Beauty."

"Oh, you're a vain one, Beauty. I'd like to get  
my hands on you, play with you, make you cry.  
Unfortunately, I don't have the time or the  
patience to train a child."

"I look like a child?"

The man's eyebrows arched, challengingly. Beauty  
was struck suddenly by the motion. He'd seen it  
so many times, on a thinner face, blue eyes...

Beauty sneered and turned away with a shrug. "I  
want someone who doesn't need to be coddled. I'm  
not looking to get my ass paddled red so you can  
hold me and make me feel better."

When the hard hands had dug themselves into his  
hair, yanking him off balance, Beauty had felt  
himself grow hard.

When he came, body jerking in unwilling passion,  
back and thighs bleeding, hard cock buried in his  
ass, Beauty closed his eyes and saw bright blue.

*****

"Here Beauty, at least let me put this cream on  
you first. It'll keep it from hurting so bad."

Tryl heard the sharp laugh and sighed, holding the  
metal rod between his fingers. The small ball on  
either end caught the light as the young Dwond  
cleaned it with an antiseptic. He gathered up his  
other tools, his razor and needles and clamps.

"Are you sure, Beauty? Getting a piercing's gonna  
feel different than you're used to and, well,"  
Tryl motioned to the young man's genitals, "that's  
not exactly an ear."

The dead stone eyes looked at him. That face was  
marble, body molded from steel.

Beauty lounged before him on the dull metal table,  
naked and relaxed. Tryl admired the months of  
work that had gone into the whipcord thin frame,  
torso covered in an amalgamation of subdued colors  
and shadows. The leaping red flames burst from  
the reddish curls between his legs, muting into  
swirls of blues and green that graced the muscled  
chest. As the design reached his shoulders, the  
colors lost their saturation, becoming pale ghost  
images, a reaching out for the unattainable.

Once, when they had first met, Beauty had shown  
him a dance, a beautiful series of steps that had  
wept with loss and sadness. Then Beauty had asked  
Tryl if he thought he could recreate that on a  
body.

Tryl had thought of the haunting image that Beauty  
made when he danced, the steady movements that  
reached beyond the cold tiles he stood upon. He  
was overwhelmed by the keening sorrow held back by  
thin layers of skin.

Tryl had said yes.

When Tryl had met Beauty, there was a hint of  
youth in his eyes. Now the blond man had come and  
asked for more. For more pain, more decoration.  
His eyes were empty and old.

"Come on, Tryl. I'm no fragile virgin. Do your  
worst." Beauty smiled at the Dwond, lying back  
and spreading his legs wide.

Tryl settled between them and pulled out a long  
needle and began his work.

*****

He could hold his breath a really long time. He  
felt his brain bubbling between his ears, felt the  
hum of instinctual panic as it tightened his  
balls, making his heart thrum.

Fuck, it felt good.

The pair of hard hands holding the mask over his  
face let up with a jerk. The young humanoid  
glared in frustration. "Damn it to the edge of  
heaven, Beauty, what is your fucking problem?  
Breathe it in. It's not like it hurts. It's not  
even like I'm forcing you..."

The still-water eyes just stared, their colors  
dulled by the moldy, torn vinyl Beauty rested on,  
boring through the young man until he started to  
shake.

"I paid you to hold the mask until I finished the  
tank."

"But, Beauty...you're taking forever; you haven't  
even started with the gas." The boy's voice was  
high and reedy with the gas that bled throughout  
the room.

"Maybe next time you'll be smarter, my young  
friend. Maybe next time you'll charge by the  
hour. Now. The mask."

Beauty felt the mask seal around his mouth and  
nose, cutting off his breath, his line with the  
air. He floated along, feeling an odd euphoria,  
knowing he hadn't even started the drug yet.

The races were tomorrow and Beauty wanted this,  
needed the release this time with an angry  
desperation he couldn't comprehend.

Something was coming.

Something was coming and it hurt his head and he  
couldn't focus on the race and he needed to win  
tomorrow, needed the credits, needed the freedom,  
needed...

A face appeared before his glazed eyes, familiar  
and ruddy. His pants were opened, lowered roughly  
and discarded as the boy kept the mask tight over  
his face.

Thick fingers pushed into his anus, slick and  
hot. Beauty fought not to gasp, to not lift  
himself off the table.

The hard fingers worked him, stretching,  
stroking. The burn was bright and Beauty's hips  
rocked, driving himself deeper onto those digits.  
His cock was hard, leaving a little pool of  
wetness on his stomach.

"See, with this one, you have to distract him.  
Keep him off balance; keep his feet up off the  
floor and his asshole spread."

"But, he's still holding his breath..."

"Watch, youngling."

Beauty felt a warm body stretch out above him,  
tongue flicking once at his ear. "You're mine.  
You belong to me and I'm not sharing you."

Beauty's eyes widened as the cock slammed into him  
and his breath escaped him sharply.

"I'm not sharing you with your drugs."

A thrust.

"I'm not sharing you with your pain."

Another thrust, deep and shocking.

"I'm not sharing you with your regrets."

Thrust.

"I'm not sharing you with the one who came looking  
for you today, either. Jinn, he said. Your old  
master, was he?"

A deep lunge and that name and he gasped, breathed  
in the drug and he was flying, disappearing into a  
time before, a world before the hurting.

But not before him.

Not before that name.

Jinn.

Jinn.


	2. Chapter 2

An echo in the Force touched Qui-Gon briefly, cool  
fingertips at his temples. They had become more  
and more frequent of late -- fleeting caresses  
tinted with the unique essence of his padawan.  
His former padawan. The thought filled his mouth  
with bitterness. Each day he tortured himself  
anew with the knowledge that it was his loss of  
control that had led them to this point. After  
all this time, Qui-Gon thought the pain should be  
muted somehow.

It wasn't.

Sighing, Qui-Gon wrapped his cloak more tightly  
around himself, shifting in the cheap, hard  
chair. Even on this temperate planet, even in the  
blank rented room, he was cold, empty. He had  
been this way since the morning Obi-Wan had left  
his bed, walking out of his life and taking the  
warmth and Light from his soul.

He still didn't understand how Obi-Wan, in his  
depleted state, had escaped him. His fear for his  
padawan's safety had him combing the near-by  
forest for hours in the pouring rain before he'd  
accepted the fact that Obi-Wan simply wasn't  
there. He'd called in local law enforcement  
officers and expanded his search, but to no avail.

Qui-Gon groaned to himself as he thought of the  
Council's reaction. Once he'd exhausted his  
resources on planet, he'd been forced to return to  
the Temple and request assistance. The large  
chambers filled with his fellow Jedi had never  
seemed so cold, so distant. He had felt their  
dismissal of Obi-Wan within the Force before  
Master Windu had even spoken. Yoda had tried to  
help, to take his responsibility for Obi-Wan's  
condition, but the Council as a whole had seen the  
disappearance of his padawan as the will of the  
Force -- and a fitting solution to a problem they  
hadn't wanted to deal with in the first place.

He'd been unable to meekly accept a new  
assignment. Even if the Council was not  
supportive, he'd known what his mission had to  
be. Qui-Gon's fingers instinctively moved to his  
waist, feeling the emptiness were his lightsaber  
should have been. He still felt the angry  
frustration that had consumed him as they had gone  
around in endless circles. It had been up to him  
to finally break with the Jedi and go out on his  
own. Even with the sad gaze of his master burning  
into him, Qui-Gon had known that one thing was  
paramount -- he had to find Obi-Wan.

Absently fingering the braided strands of auburn  
hair hidden within his own silver and brown,  
Qui-Gon turned to his notes. He'd heard rumors of  
a talented, daring pilot, possibly fitting  
Obi-Wan's description. It had taken effort, but  
he'd traced the rumors back to this world. He  
tortured himself daily with the past. Now, after  
what seemed like an eternity, he was getting close  
to finding Obi-Wan. At least he felt close.  
Something in the flow of the Force currents around  
him called out to him of love and laughter and  
Light.

Or maybe he was simply losing his mind.

Qui-Gon sighed, absently sipping cha long gone  
cold. For five years he'd followed leads,  
crisscrossing the galaxy in search of Obi-Wan. As  
a Jedi, he'd thought he'd been exposed to every  
torture sentients inflicted on one another, but  
once he took off the uniform of the Jedi and  
blended in, he'd been shocked to see the places  
and situations that people survived in -- that  
Obi-Wan must be surviving in. His anguish and  
guilt increased with each horror he saw.

Yet, even if Obi-Wan still wore the  
Force-inhibiting collar, Qui-Gon knew he would  
have sensed Obi-Wan's death. The connection that  
he shared with his padawan went so much deeper  
than their now-broken training bond. So, Qui-Gon  
continued his search.

When he'd left the Jedi, Qui-Gon had given Yoda  
his lightsaber and Obi-Wan's, knowing that his  
master would keep them safe until they were able  
to reclaim them. If they were able to reclaim  
them. One of the Council's main concerns was that  
Obi-Wan would continue to be a danger. Qui-Gon  
held no illusions that the past could be changed.  
Obi-Wan had killed Padawan Pzed, but he hadn't  
been cognizant of his actions and had obviously  
reacted strongly when he'd learned of them.  
Qui-Gon's only hope was that once he found  
Obi-Wan, he would have a second chance to somehow  
made things right.

Tomorrow he would find out if, this time, his  
search would be successful. Qui-Gon rolled his  
head back and forth, trying to relax his neck and  
shoulder muscles. He was so tired. Leaving the  
datapad on the desk, Qui-Gon curled his massive  
body onto the small bed in the corner. By now he  
had memorized every sketchy detail of the race and  
the pilot. Pulling his cloak around him, he  
fingered the rough, yet achingly familiar fabric.  
He had left the Temple with only two reminders of  
his former life -- his boots, because they were as  
much a part of him as his lightsaber, and one of  
his cloaks, because Obi-Wan had felt protected  
when he wrapped himself in one. Qui-Gon only wore  
the cloak in private, but he never failed to think  
of Obi-Wan when he did, dreaming of a time when  
they could both stop running and be together  
again.

Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon drifted into a fitful  
sleep, dreaming, as he did every night, of  
Obi-Wan.

*****

It was bliss. Obi-Wan was sleek and smooth and  
supple. Running his hands over the beloved body,  
Qui-Gon knew he could spend eternity appreciating  
its beauty.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan squirm with delight beneath  
his hands, playfully crying out for more,  
submitting to the possession of his master, the  
man he loved beyond life.

Smiling at his padawan's eagerness, Qui-Gon  
continued the slow, sensual touches until he knew,  
through their bond, that Obi-Wan couldn't stand  
any more teasing. Finally, he let his kisses  
drift down over Obi-Wan's sleek chest, dipping his  
tongue into the indented navel before taking the  
rigid shaft in his mouth and sucking lightly. As  
he licked and nibbled along the firm flesh, he  
could taste the tangy flavor of his love on his  
tongue.

Kissing along Obi-Wan's hip, Qui-Gon gently  
nuzzled and pushed until Obi-Wan rolled onto his  
stomach. He could feel Obi-Wan quivering as his  
tongue lapped along Obi-Wan's lower back and down  
into the crevice of his ass. His tongue pushed  
in, wetting and stretching in preparation for his  
cock. Obi-Wan's cries of pleasure washed over  
him, adding to his excitement.

Sinking into Obi-Wan's heat and tightness was  
incredible. Qui-Gon gasped and tried to keep from  
thrusting in completely, but his restraint was  
unnecessary. Obi-Wan arched into the penetration,  
shuddering as the motion sheathed Qui-Gon  
completely in his body.

Their love making was slow and steady, bringing  
both of them to the pinnacle of pleasure before  
Qui-Gon picked up the pace and drove them over  
into mind-shattering orgasm. They lay together,  
panting and sweat-slick as they calmed, Obi-Wan's  
head tucked against Qui-Gon's shoulder.

It was perfect. Qui-Gon petted the beautiful body  
snuggled so close to him, reveling in the love  
that flowed between the two of them, luminous in  
the night.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt a sharp pain slice through  
him. Clutching his head, he struggled to focus,  
to control the pain so he could figure out what  
the problem was. Obi-Wan lay by his side, too  
silent, too still. Reaching out with a trembling  
hand, Qui-Gon was shocked to feel the cold flesh  
where just moments ago had been heat and vital  
energy.

Panic shooting through him, Qui-Gon sat up,  
rolling Obi-Wan so he could see the still, pale  
face -- a face that looked slightly similar, but  
wasn't Obi-Wan. Relief poured through him, and  
Qui-Gon tried to identify the man lying naked in  
bed with him. As he watched in growing horror,  
the face changed beneath his gaze, morphing into  
another man and another and yet another.

Backing away from the body, Qui-Gon began to moan,  
the volume of his cry increasing as he faced the  
full impact of his guilt. He'd seen their faces  
before. They were the results of other promising  
leads -- men he'd tracked down, hoping that his  
network of informants had finally gotten the tip  
that would lead him to Obi-Wan. What he'd found,  
instead, were pale reflections of his padawan.  
Pale reflections that, at some point, had become  
close enough to the original for a night of  
passion. Nights where his mind, hope crushed yet  
again, had pretended that the quest was over, the  
prize found.

Curling up on the floor with his back against a  
wall, Qui-Gon rocked forward and back, whispering  
Obi-Wan's name over and over.

Qui-Gon woke from his nightmare, drained and  
disillusioned. The filthy window filtered in the  
gray light of morning. He wouldn't let himself  
hope. The pain and guilt of failure were becoming  
too great.

Yet, as he braided back his hair and dressed in  
dark leather pants and a silver-gray shirt, he  
couldn't help his excitement. He had a race to  
attend.

*****

The crowd was boisterous, their excitement  
palpable. As Qui-Gon made his way through the  
brightly-colored market area outside the stands,  
he heard the calls of vendors cut across the  
general babble of voices. The race was only one  
of many attractions at the fair, but it was the  
only one Qui-Gon was concerned with.

When he'd arrived on this Outer Rim world, he'd  
found the racetrack and set about looking for a  
racer named Beauty. He shouldn't have been  
surprised when it was difficult to find him. He'd  
felt that he was tantalizingly close, but the  
currents of the Force were elusive.

Qui-Gon had talked to many people, and while  
several admitted to knowing of the man, he was  
talked about in hushed tones and no one could, or  
would, tell Qui-Gon where he lived. Trying to  
read the Force, Qui-Gon had focused his search on  
an area with bars and other less savory  
establishments. One man he'd spoken with, Kynen,  
hadn't admitted it, but he'd thought the man knew  
Beauty. Holding onto that piece of information,  
Qui-Gon had continued to look until he'd finally  
decided to get a room and wait for the race the  
next morning.

At the track early, he'd learned that Beauty never  
showed up until just before a race, apparently  
liking to make an entrance. Resigned to waiting,  
Qui-Gon had circulated outside the track, hoping  
to stumble onto useful information. So far,  
nothing had presented itself.

Re-entering the racetrack, Qui-Gon worked his way  
through the milling spectators to the front row  
seat he'd "convinced" the ticket seller was his.  
Using the Force for small gain had long ago become  
necessary to his survival, and Qui-Gon had  
accepted that responsibility.

Qui-Gon could see the other racers, parading  
about, waving to the crowd as their speeders were  
lined up at the start. Flipping through the  
information on the viewscreen in front of his  
seat, Qui-Gon stopped to study a map of the  
meandering racecourse that ran through dense  
forest and open meadows before returning to the  
stands. Looking for information on Beauty, he  
couldn't locate an image, but found the odds on  
the pilots. Beauty and another racer, Semaj, were  
far and away the favorites. If Beauty really was  
Obi-Wan, and he still wore the Force-inhibiting  
collar, Qui-Gon shuddered to think of the timing  
and reflexes needed to successfully navigate the  
course -- all the while avoiding the tricks of the  
other racers. He felt himself tense, and had to  
work to relax.

Any sense of peace he'd gained was shattered as  
Beauty arrived, stalking to his speeder with a  
casual disdain for the crowd that both infuriated  
and impressed them. Qui-Gon followed the man,  
trying to identify his missing padawan. The man  
was painfully thin, with blond-streaked auburn  
hair tied at his nape and falling slightly below  
his shoulders. He was dressed in sinfully tight  
brown leather pants, tucked into high boots, and  
went shirtless, covered only in a deep green  
leather vest. What caught Qui-Gon's attention  
immediately was the metal collar around the  
pilot's neck. It took him a moment to notice the  
man's body was decorated with color -- greens and  
blues along his stomach, rising up his chest and  
fading to levels of grays, becoming mere wisps as  
it hit his shoulders and neck.

Obi-Wan -- could it truly be? He looked so  
different, but then again, it had been a long  
time. As the race began, Qui-Gon followed  
Beauty's speeder, reaching out with the Force to  
try to sense a familiar presence. The pilots  
raced madly around the course, fighting the sharp  
turns and obstacles as well as one another. As  
Beauty's speeder deftly veered to avoid Semaj's  
and shoot across the finish line first, Qui-Gon  
felt a small surge of energy. It didn't feel  
exactly like Obi-Wan, too much pain and despair,  
but there was also the excitement of flight, of  
victory -- there was enough to recognize him.

Qui-Gon sat back, stunned -- he had finally found  
Obi-Wan.

Continued in Part 3

Part 3

The air felt wicked, whipping across his face and  
Beauty almost smiled. The feel of the speeder,  
held tightly between his thighs, exhilarated him  
as did the last remnants of the drug flowing  
through his system. He fell into the race,  
dodging through the course. Semaj was beside him,  
bald head showing off his ritual marking of  
ferocity. Semaj was supposed to win this race,  
that was the agreement, but Beauty really needed  
the money, needed to leave.

Jinn was here. He'd talked to Kynen already and  
it was simply a matter of time.

The track was flowing past, the dull brown dirt  
contrasting with the black sheen of the metal he  
controlled with his body. Kynen had held him down  
last night, fucked him while he was lost within  
the euphoria of the drugs. When he'd woken up,  
Kynen was beside him, sleeping on the huge  
mattress, one massive hand wrapped around Beauty's  
flaccid cock, one finger insinuated in the metal  
ring that protruded through the tip.

Kynen hadn't woken as Beauty stood, only rolled  
over and murmured drowsily. By the time Kynen  
woke and realized he wasn't back from the race,  
Beauty would be on a transport off-planet.

His bag was waiting in the staging area, his extra  
outfits wrapped around the small tokens he had  
picked up over the last few years. He had a tiny  
blue stone that had fallen from the ring of the  
woman who had introduced him to the races, given  
him his leathers. She needed to watch Beauty  
stand in front of her and stroke himself to  
completion. She never spoke, never touched, just  
watched fiercely with light, glittering eyes. She  
had cried a single tear when he'd left.

A series of needles wrapped in black velvet were a  
gift from Tryl. Tryl had dulled the needles on  
Beauty's skin, painting him with pain. The Dwond,  
decorated from head to foot in a seemingly random  
series of tiny scars which told the story of his  
tribe, had met Beauty at a club. They had talked  
for hours, high on panac. Beauty couldn't  
remember now if they had fucked, but he thought  
they must have because he did remember doing a  
kata for Tryl, feeling his soul ache towards the  
Force, which didn't exist anymore, never would  
again. Tryl's black eyes had watched with a sharp  
fascination and suddenly Beauty had known what he  
needed.

Tryl overwrote the memory of the Force with ink  
and pain and vibrant colors. Beauty had floated  
on the pain for weeks, night after night, lying  
there in Tryl's brightly painted rooms with sweat  
rolling down his cheeks. It was so good, so real,  
this pain. He thought that maybe it was the first  
thing he had truly felt.

Mapha had given him the tiny clear pot with  
shimmering flakes of glitter one evening after she  
finished dancing. Her huge body shone in the  
lights and he had laughed, fascinated by the  
motion, the random sparkles. Beauty had looked at  
her, blinking slowly, "You're covered in stars,  
Mapha, stars." Her heavy laughter had felt warm  
and somehow wet, the light jumping across the  
folds of her belly. The secrets of the galaxy  
were somewhere in those flashing lights, in those  
stars.

There were a dozen more, from a dozen different  
places he'd run from. Pieces of memory from  
people he'd fucked, people he'd paid, people who  
had paid him. He had been here on this tiny,  
dirty little planet for almost eight cycles. He  
was making money, the panac was available and  
other more recreational drugs were plentiful. He  
had Kynen and he had Kynen's hard fists and thick  
jaw.

He wasn't ready to leave this place, but Jinn was  
here, on this planet, close. Too fucking close.

The race was over quickly and the crowd was  
screaming. Beauty allowed his heart to race and a  
moment of fierce joy to overtake him. The speeder  
was hot underneath him; his thighs trembled  
slightly against the shiny black metal. He raised  
his hands in victory, relishing the rub of the  
leather vest against the ebony rings in his  
nipples.

The crowd howled, throwing coins, flowers, rotted  
vegetables, all manner of detritus upon the track  
as he slid off his speeder. Semaj threw himself  
off his machine, growling viciously beneath his  
breath, fists clenching violently.

Beauty sauntered over to Semaj before the man  
could start something with him. Looking directly  
into the furious eyes, Beauty winked. "I know, I  
fucked up the agreement. Don't bitch, Sem. I'm  
bailing. It's yours now." He motioned to the  
speeder with his head.

The fierce light in his competitor's eyes died  
down. "Damn right it's mine, Beauty. None of  
these other demanis deserve it."

Beauty moved up close to the sweating Zabrakian,  
wrapping his arms around the taller man. "You're  
right, Semaj. Anything else you want before I  
leave?"

"Kynen will have my balls, Beauty."

A challenging smile appeared on Beauty's face.  
"You too scared to take what you want, Sem? It's  
your only chance. I'm almost gone."

The kiss that followed was brutal and fierce. The  
crowd screamed as the men struggled in their  
embrace. When Beauty pulled back, his lips were  
wet with blood. With a smile, Beauty reached up  
and removed a long silver chain from Semaj's  
neck. "To remember, Sem." With a shrug and an  
oddly youthful grin, he threaded the chain through  
the rings on his nipples.

Beauty wiped the sweat out of his eyes and walked  
towards the dais in the corner of the track to  
collect his monies. The exchange was made quickly  
and efficiently, and then Beauty turned to face  
the crowd, acknowledging his applause. He smiled,  
eyes bouncing around aimlessly at the dirty,  
screeching faces until they lit upon one gone pale  
with shock.

Fuck!

It couldn't be.

It was. It was him. Beauty looked, almost drank  
in the features that were more familiar than  
breathing. He looked tired, sad, but it was still  
him. The broken nose, the high forehead. The  
hair was lighter, maybe he was older, but oh!  
Force help him, it was his master.

Master? Jinn? Oh fuck, it was true. Kynen had  
warned him and now Jinn was here.

Found, he was found and oh Force, it was him. He  
hadn't changed, hadn't changed and Beauty thought  
he could even see those eyes and oh, no, not now,  
not here. Oh, fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck...

Beauty turned and bolted for the staging area. He  
grabbed his bag, heard Semaj's roar as the  
outsider tried to follow, as Jinn tried to follow.

There was a transport waiting outside the door and  
Beauty took a moment to be thankful for its  
presence as they zipped away. "Take me to the  
south side, near the warehouses."

He sat back, nervously looking behind him,  
dreading the sight of the graying hair, those  
eyes, those fucking blue eyes that wouldn't go  
away, wouldn't leave his dreams, wouldn't fade.  
Beauty reached up to push back his hair and he  
noticed the faint tremors within his fingers.

Beauty dug through his bag and opened up a slender  
vial of liquid with an autoinjector attached.  
Placing it against his upper arm, he pressed. The  
drugs hit immediately and the slight trembles in  
his hand ceased.

He rummaged through his bags again, ripping off  
the vest and throwing on a thick black jacket. He  
pulled his hair down; making sure it covered his  
face and began dabbing on make-up. He added a  
reddish tint to his skin and kohled his eyes  
before slipping dark brown lenses over the  
pupils. A quick glance at his reflection and he  
was pleased. He looked younger, more innocent.  
Just what the smugglers on these off-planet runs  
were looking for to warm their beds.

The transport stopped in front of a broken down  
building with loud music blaring from it and  
Beauty hopped out, grabbing his bag and wrapping  
the persona of a lost, scared boy looking for a  
caretaker around him.

Before long, Beauty was wrapped within the arms of  
a stocky Corellian called Adu, sobbing out his sad  
story of abusive family members and long, cold  
nights on the street.

Shortly thereafter, Adu had Beauty bent under a  
filthy table, sucking enthusiastically at his cock  
while the older man finished up his business deals  
on this worthless little planet.

Before the sun had moved below the ragged tops of  
the warehouses, Beauty was standing in a small,  
rusty smuggler's ship, headed towards Corellia.

He'd escaped again.

Jinn hadn't found him, couldn't follow him.

Wouldn't follow him.

"Beauty." The voice was rough and cacophonous.  
"Get back in here, boy. I've got things to teach  
you."

"Yes." He sounded flat, even to his own ears.

"Yes, what, boy?"

Beauty closed his eyes for a moment and saw blue.  
He was still alive. Qui-Gon was still alive, but  
he wasn't here.

"Beauty! Answer me, boy! Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master. I'm coming."


	3. Chapter 3

The air felt wicked, whipping across his face and  
Beauty almost smiled. The feel of the speeder,  
held tightly between his thighs, exhilarated him  
as did the last remnants of the drug flowing  
through his system. He fell into the race,  
dodging through the course. Semaj was beside him,  
bald head showing off his ritual marking of  
ferocity. Semaj was supposed to win this race,  
that was the agreement, but Beauty really needed  
the money, needed to leave.

Jinn was here. He'd talked to Kynen already and  
it was simply a matter of time.

The track was flowing past, the dull brown dirt  
contrasting with the black sheen of the metal he  
controlled with his body. Kynen had held him down  
last night, fucked him while he was lost within  
the euphoria of the drugs. When he'd woken up,  
Kynen was beside him, sleeping on the huge  
mattress, one massive hand wrapped around Beauty's  
flaccid cock, one finger insinuated in the metal  
ring that protruded through the tip.

Kynen hadn't woken as Beauty stood, only rolled  
over and murmured drowsily. By the time Kynen  
woke and realized he wasn't back from the race,  
Beauty would be on a transport off-planet.

His bag was waiting in the staging area, his extra  
outfits wrapped around the small tokens he had  
picked up over the last few years. He had a tiny  
blue stone that had fallen from the ring of the  
woman who had introduced him to the races, given  
him his leathers. She needed to watch Beauty  
stand in front of her and stroke himself to  
completion. She never spoke, never touched, just  
watched fiercely with light, glittering eyes. She  
had cried a single tear when he'd left.

A series of needles wrapped in black velvet were a  
gift from Tryl. Tryl had dulled the needles on  
Beauty's skin, painting him with pain. The Dwond,  
decorated from head to foot in a seemingly random  
series of tiny scars which told the story of his  
tribe, had met Beauty at a club. They had talked  
for hours, high on panac. Beauty couldn't  
remember now if they had fucked, but he thought  
they must have because he did remember doing a  
kata for Tryl, feeling his soul ache towards the  
Force, which didn't exist anymore, never would  
again. Tryl's black eyes had watched with a sharp  
fascination and suddenly Beauty had known what he  
needed.

Tryl overwrote the memory of the Force with ink  
and pain and vibrant colors. Beauty had floated  
on the pain for weeks, night after night, lying  
there in Tryl's brightly painted rooms with sweat  
rolling down his cheeks. It was so good, so real,  
this pain. He thought that maybe it was the first  
thing he had truly felt.

Mapha had given him the tiny clear pot with  
shimmering flakes of glitter one evening after she  
finished dancing. Her huge body shone in the  
lights and he had laughed, fascinated by the  
motion, the random sparkles. Beauty had looked at  
her, blinking slowly, "You're covered in stars,  
Mapha, stars." Her heavy laughter had felt warm  
and somehow wet, the light jumping across the  
folds of her belly. The secrets of the galaxy  
were somewhere in those flashing lights, in those  
stars.

There were a dozen more, from a dozen different  
places he'd run from. Pieces of memory from  
people he'd fucked, people he'd paid, people who  
had paid him. He had been here on this tiny,  
dirty little planet for almost eight cycles. He  
was making money, the panac was available and  
other more recreational drugs were plentiful. He  
had Kynen and he had Kynen's hard fists and thick  
jaw.

He wasn't ready to leave this place, but Jinn was  
here, on this planet, close. Too fucking close.

The race was over quickly and the crowd was  
screaming. Beauty allowed his heart to race and a  
moment of fierce joy to overtake him. The speeder  
was hot underneath him; his thighs trembled  
slightly against the shiny black metal. He raised  
his hands in victory, relishing the rub of the  
leather vest against the ebony rings in his  
nipples.

The crowd howled, throwing coins, flowers, rotted  
vegetables, all manner of detritus upon the track  
as he slid off his speeder. Semaj threw himself  
off his machine, growling viciously beneath his  
breath, fists clenching violently.

Beauty sauntered over to Semaj before the man  
could start something with him. Looking directly  
into the furious eyes, Beauty winked. "I know, I  
fucked up the agreement. Don't bitch, Sem. I'm  
bailing. It's yours now." He motioned to the  
speeder with his head.

The fierce light in his competitor's eyes died  
down. "Damn right it's mine, Beauty. None of  
these other demanis deserve it."

Beauty moved up close to the sweating Zabrakian,  
wrapping his arms around the taller man. "You're  
right, Semaj. Anything else you want before I  
leave?"

"Kynen will have my balls, Beauty."

A challenging smile appeared on Beauty's face.  
"You too scared to take what you want, Sem? It's  
your only chance. I'm almost gone."

The kiss that followed was brutal and fierce. The  
crowd screamed as the men struggled in their  
embrace. When Beauty pulled back, his lips were  
wet with blood. With a smile, Beauty reached up  
and removed a long silver chain from Semaj's  
neck. "To remember, Sem." With a shrug and an  
oddly youthful grin, he threaded the chain through  
the rings on his nipples.

Beauty wiped the sweat out of his eyes and walked  
towards the dais in the corner of the track to  
collect his monies. The exchange was made quickly  
and efficiently, and then Beauty turned to face  
the crowd, acknowledging his applause. He smiled,  
eyes bouncing around aimlessly at the dirty,  
screeching faces until they lit upon one gone pale  
with shock.

Fuck!

It couldn't be.

It was. It was him. Beauty looked, almost drank  
in the features that were more familiar than  
breathing. He looked tired, sad, but it was still  
him. The broken nose, the high forehead. The  
hair was lighter, maybe he was older, but oh!  
Force help him, it was his master.

Master? Jinn? Oh fuck, it was true. Kynen had  
warned him and now Jinn was here.

Found, he was found and oh Force, it was him. He  
hadn't changed, hadn't changed and Beauty thought  
he could even see those eyes and oh, no, not now,  
not here. Oh, fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck...

Beauty turned and bolted for the staging area. He  
grabbed his bag, heard Semaj's roar as the  
outsider tried to follow, as Jinn tried to follow.

There was a transport waiting outside the door and  
Beauty took a moment to be thankful for its  
presence as they zipped away. "Take me to the  
south side, near the warehouses."

He sat back, nervously looking behind him,  
dreading the sight of the graying hair, those  
eyes, those fucking blue eyes that wouldn't go  
away, wouldn't leave his dreams, wouldn't fade.  
Beauty reached up to push back his hair and he  
noticed the faint tremors within his fingers.

Beauty dug through his bag and opened up a slender  
vial of liquid with an autoinjector attached.  
Placing it against his upper arm, he pressed. The  
drugs hit immediately and the slight trembles in  
his hand ceased.

He rummaged through his bags again, ripping off  
the vest and throwing on a thick black jacket. He  
pulled his hair down; making sure it covered his  
face and began dabbing on make-up. He added a  
reddish tint to his skin and kohled his eyes  
before slipping dark brown lenses over the  
pupils. A quick glance at his reflection and he  
was pleased. He looked younger, more innocent.  
Just what the smugglers on these off-planet runs  
were looking for to warm their beds.

The transport stopped in front of a broken down  
building with loud music blaring from it and  
Beauty hopped out, grabbing his bag and wrapping  
the persona of a lost, scared boy looking for a  
caretaker around him.

Before long, Beauty was wrapped within the arms of  
a stocky Corellian called Adu, sobbing out his sad  
story of abusive family members and long, cold  
nights on the street.

Shortly thereafter, Adu had Beauty bent under a  
filthy table, sucking enthusiastically at his cock  
while the older man finished up his business deals  
on this worthless little planet.

Before the sun had moved below the ragged tops of  
the warehouses, Beauty was standing in a small,  
rusty smuggler's ship, headed towards Corellia.

He'd escaped again.

Jinn hadn't found him, couldn't follow him.

Wouldn't follow him.

"Beauty." The voice was rough and cacophonous.  
"Get back in here, boy. I've got things to teach  
you."

"Yes." He sounded flat, even to his own ears.

"Yes, what, boy?"

Beauty closed his eyes for a moment and saw blue.  
He was still alive. Qui-Gon was still alive, but  
he wasn't here.

"Beauty! Answer me, boy! Yes, what?"

"Yes, Master. I'm coming."


	4. Chapter 4

It was maddening how many ships were leaving  
D'aebka.

Qui-Gon stalked over to another ship, sure its  
captain was going to be as difficult and  
closed-mouthed as the last ones he'd talked to.  
He shouldn't be surprised -- smugglers and  
businessmen alike didn't engage in small talk  
about their passengers or destinations, even when  
asked "nicely." Still, it was driving him crazy  
\-- to be this close to Obi-Wan and risk having him  
slip through his fingers.

After recognizing the racer as Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon  
had thought his search was finally over. He could  
talk to Obi-Wan, apologize for how badly  
everything had gone, help him. Instead, Obi-Wan  
had seen him -- almost as if his eyes had been  
instinctively drawn to his master -- and fled.

Qui-Gon had followed immediately, but had been  
delayed by the Zabrakian racer -- the one who had  
kissed Obi-Wan so fiercely. Stomping down on his  
jealousy, he'd gotten around the obstacle with a  
well-placed kick, but by the time he'd reached the  
street, Obi-Wan was gone.

Fearing that Obi-Wan would attempt to escape him  
by going off planet, Qui-Gon had headed for the  
loosely organized area that served as a  
spaceport. He'd been unhappy to find so many  
ships and such high traffic. He'd spent the  
afternoon searching for Obi-Wan -- in the port and  
in the Force, but, to his immense frustration, had  
not found him.

If Obi-Wan didn't want to be found, he would  
shield himself mentally so that even the tiny  
flicker Qui-Gon had felt before would be squashed.

Finally Qui-Gon decided he needed to change  
tactics. If he couldn't cover every departing  
ship, he needed more information about Obi-Wan's  
possible whereabouts and destination. He needed  
to talk to Kynen.

*****

The establishment was as depressing the second  
time as it had been the first -- not really its  
physical look, but the sense of angry pain and  
drugged pleasure that permeated the Force here.  
Qui-Gon wove his way through the tables and  
couches scattered across the front room, trying to  
block out the empty people and loud, angry music  
that screamed into every corner of the place.

Making his way along a hallway connecting smaller,  
more private rooms, Qui-Gon ignored the lingering  
smell of drugs and the protests of a guard, and  
entered Kynen's office. He found the huge man  
slouched in a large chair behind a meticulously  
organized desk.

"Where is he?"

The man looked up sharply. "I don't know."

Qui-Gon paused, taken aback by the desolate look  
on the ruddy face. Apparently Kynen was not happy  
that Obi-Wan had left. "I think you do. Please,  
I need to find him."

Kynen seemed to rally, pulling himself up straight  
and glaring at Qui-Gon. "Ah, Jinn, his old  
master."

Surprised by the observation, and wondering if  
perhaps Obi-Wan had spoken of him, Qui-Gon asked,  
"Why would you think that?"

"He used to say your name when he came."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed menacingly, and he had to  
fight to control his feelings of anger, jealousy  
and...pleasure. Struggling to keep his voice  
level, he said, "I want to help him."

Kynen said angrily, "He doesn't seem to want to be  
found. Considering the state he's in, your help  
wasn't very useful to him before."

This man certainly knew what to say to cut through  
his heart. Qui-Gon sank into the chair in front  
of the desk and met Kynen's eyes. "I failed him  
before, but I won't again. I will make things  
right."

Kynen relaxed slightly. "I believe you are  
telling me the truth, Jinn."

"Then, please, where did he go?"

"He didn't tell me." Kynen held up his hand to  
forestall Qui-Gon's words. "I woke up this  
morning, expecting him back from the race but he  
hadn't returned. Last night I'd told him about  
meeting you and I realized he'd panicked and run.  
I went to the spaceport and asked around but no  
one had seen him. I was about to leave, hoping  
he'd returned and I was worrying for nothing, when  
I saw him boarding a ship."

Qui-Gon couldn't stop himself from demanding,  
"Where was it headed?"

"I convinced an associate to find out --  
Corellia."

Closing his eyes briefly, Qui-Gon took a steadying  
breath. Corellia was well known for its  
smugglers, scoundrels, and all manners of sexual  
expression. "Did he have credits?"

Kynen raised his eyebrows and laughed out loud.  
"Beauty has a slight...fondness for panac that  
demands the credits he wins at the races. But  
don't worry about him, with a body like his, he  
won't need credits. After all, nobody moves under  
the whip like our Beauty, right Jinn?"

This was too much to grasp. Qui-Gon couldn't  
believe that his Obi-Wan was addicted to a  
sensation-enhancing drug, that his padawan craved  
pain and humiliation to gain sexual pleasure, that  
his love would sell his body to strangers to feed  
the addiction. No, he didn't want to believe.  
Feeling sick, Qui-Gon rose, needing to back away  
from this reality of his padawan, his Obi-Wan. "I  
need to go. Thank you for the information. I  
will find him and see that he's healed."

Giving a genuine smile, Kynen said, "I hope you  
succeed."

"I will."

*****

Space was vast -- mostly cold and empty, with a  
few spectacular exceptions. Qui-Gon sat in the  
pilot's chair of his small transport, watching the  
instruments as the distance to Corellia decreased,  
hoping that he wouldn't be too late to find  
Obi-Wan. He'd been so close this time -- had felt  
him in the Force, seen him.

Obi-Wan, and yet not the Obi-Wan he remembered.

It went beyond the startling physical changes --  
markings that covered his body like a living  
flame. His inner light was different. Kynen and  
his establishment hinted at the lifestyle Obi-Wan  
was immersed in -- drugs, sex, pain. Even after  
all the things he'd seen in his search, Qui-Gon  
had held fiercely to the belief that Obi-Wan  
wouldn't be touched by them. His image of Obi-Wan  
was so unlike the picture he'd seen today, that  
Qui-Gon was reeling with the harshness of reality.

And with the guilt.

He was desperate to find Obi-Wan. To help him  
back into the Light. Only he wasn't so sure he  
knew where it was anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

The rain was warm and ran down his neck onto his  
bare back. Beauty shrugged his shoulders,  
enjoying the sensation of the water trickling over  
the small welts left over from his trip. He  
chuckled; Adu was a sweet man, just looking for a  
youngster to mold while getting a couple of  
blowjobs. Unfortunately, Beauty wasn't a  
youngster anymore and the days where being called  
"boy" unnerved him were long gone.

The old bastard had cried when he'd walked off the  
ship to find greener pastures.

After all, Jinn would be looking for him again.  
If he'd been observed boarding Adu's ship, the  
best thing he could do was distance himself as  
quickly as possible. He only needed a few days --  
get some panac, some cash and then maybe he could  
find someone who was selling an old ship,  
something dented and worthless, but working. Then  
he could disappear into nothingness and Jinn would  
never be able to find him. He'd be free.

First things first, though -- the panac. The need  
was crawling inside him, gnawing against his long  
bones, making his skin crawl. Beauty walked  
slowly, keeping close to the buildings, listening  
for the blaring of noise, the cries that would  
tell him which establishment he was looking for.  
There was one is every city, and in a capital like  
Coronet, they weren't even rare, just discreet.

Ben knew this city, had walked these streets,  
striding out down the middle, cloak protecting him  
from prying eyes. Funny how different a city  
looked when he walked closer to the gutter,  
bare-chested and more than a little hungry for the  
drug that would fill his empty spaces.

The house was easier to find than he'd hoped. In  
the end he'd followed the slow movement of gaunt  
young people through a red door and into a small  
office. The woman sitting at the desk grinned  
when he entered.

"You're new."

Beauty nodded, shortly. "To the place, not to the  
practice."

She smiled sharply, her pink hair falling into her  
face. "You willing to accept house rules?"

"No conning the regulars. No fights. No auths."

"Are you clean?"

"No rashes, no diseases, no bugs, no interest in  
finding any."

"Willing to submit to a blood test?"

Beauty stuck out a finger and allowed her to poke  
it and test his blood. "Clean as promised."

"Yes. Your limits?"

"No limits. No newbies, though and I want to  
choose. I'm not a trainer." Beauty turned  
slowly, showing off his body. As he moved to face  
her, he slowly unbuttoned his leathers and exposed  
his groin. Swaying lightly to the music filtering  
through the thin walls, Beauty moved sinuously,  
taking his cock in his hand and stroking himself  
to hardness, thumb moving slowly over the imbedded  
ring. Once he was fully erect, he brought his  
eyes up to meet hers. "I don't have to play with  
the new ones. I want to choose."

The woman stood and grinned, grabbing a datapad  
and moving around the desk. "You are a jewel,  
dearie. What're your terms? Credits? Panac? A  
mix?"

"A mix. I want a hit before I start, on good  
faith." Beauty tried to calm the tiny spasms of  
his muscles, which worsened as they discussed the  
drug. This kind of transaction was fairly well  
ritualized, allowing the experienced to conduct  
business easily and the newbies to be quickly  
identified.

A nod and the deal was done. "Not a problem. I  
need a name and a place to keep your account. I'm  
Tani, by the way. I'm always here, run the books,  
keep the peace."

"I'm Beauty." Her direct, calculating stare would  
have made him blush once.

"You are that, dearie." She typed information  
into her pad and then moved to her desk and  
rummaged for a moment. "Okay, why don't you tuck  
your cock back into those sweet leathers and go  
clean yourself up. You're wet and you won't do  
well under the lights without some help. The  
cosmetics are in the dressing room." She threw a  
small key and a vial, which Beauty caught  
effortlessly despite his tremors. "I'm sure  
you've heard this before. You've got a locker to  
stash your stuff in, finding a place to sleep is  
your problem. You get your credits deposited and  
your hit when your customer is happy."

Beauty nodded. "I want credits. No accounts. No  
records. I'm not permanent, just think of me as  
special entertainment."

"Fine, Beauty. Dressing room's down the hall.  
Someone there will show you the main floor." She  
turned from him and motioned in the young girl  
standing shivering in the doorway. "Come on in  
dearie, I don't bite."

*****

The room was busy, young men and women dressing,  
primping, painting. The environment was almost  
pleasant, softly lit, cushioned. There were trays  
of cosmetics resting on long counters,  
unimaginable shades and textures. These people  
were in leather, vinyl, chains. Some were  
completely nude. Mostly humanoid, there were a  
few other species lounging about, for those with  
rarer tastes.

Beauty found his locker and threw his bag in,  
locking it. He pressed the vial against his arm  
before moving into the bathing area, where he  
cleaned himself, within and without. Back in the  
dressing area, he applied make-up, accentuating  
his eyes and nipples with glitter. He brushed out  
his hair and let it flow across his shoulders. He  
wiped the chain and rings adorning his nipples  
with a soft cloth, removing any prints.

The music was beginning to hit him, the beat  
becoming seductive and intense as the drug zipped  
through his body. Beauty closed his eyes,  
breathing slowly and feeling the need to move, to  
fuck, to feel course through him.

With a nod to no one in particular, Beauty moved  
through the hallway into the depths of the club.

*****

He danced, moving his body through the crowd,  
searching for someone who could please him. He  
had no doubt that whoever he chose would be happy,  
sated. As a rule, Beauty was very good at what he  
did.

The room was warm and he began to shine with sweat  
underneath the violet lights as he swayed.  
Suddenly a long, slender finger traced along the  
edges of the black metal in his nipple. Beauty  
looked into deep brown eyes surrounded by an oddly  
angular face. "You like?"

The man nodded, silently. His eyes never left  
Beauty's face.

They danced for a few moments, bodies moving  
together. Beauty's partner was almost exactly his  
height, and there was something unbelievably  
exciting about the thought of looking into his  
eyes while they fucked. Slowly, Beauty realized  
he was being maneuvered towards a hallway, towards  
the private rooms.

He frowned, trying to clear his head. Is this who  
he wanted? Is this who he chose? The angular  
chin of his partner jutted up and the long fingers  
shot out, grabbing a pierced nipple. Beauty  
groaned, felt himself grow hard as the fingers  
twisted slowly, not tearing the skin, but building  
the pain. As Beauty's eyes closed momentarily,  
the fingers left his chest and then Beauty saw the  
slim figure walking down the hall.

Beauty followed without another thought.

*****

The beat of the music was unbelievably loud,  
confusing him, keeping him off balance with his  
so-silent partner who had simply opened a door and  
led him inside.

The sheets were soft, cradling him in a way that  
was oddly discomfiting. He wanted the pain, not  
this gentility. Beauty struggled slightly;  
watching in a dazed, amazed way as the slim man  
attached his arms to cuffs at the head of the bed.

The man moved with grace, trailing hot fingers  
down Beauty's sides, tracing the chain between his  
nipples with a fascinated gleam in those dark  
eyes. The music beat on, unrelenting as Beauty  
lifted his hips, allowing his pants to be removed.

A delighted laugh, the first sound he had heard  
from this man, escaped, deep and rough, as the  
ring set within Beauty's erection was exposed.  
Beauty closed his eyes, feeling cool hands  
touching his hard cock, moving the ring, slowly  
manipulating it.

Beauty felt a cold thin chain slide through the  
ring, the links catching his skin, making him  
groan. He kept his eyes closed, feeling those  
fingers trail up his stomach. When the chain on  
his nipples was attached to the new chain, Beauty  
allowed his body to undulate. The more he moved,  
the tighter the tension on the chains became.  
When he forced his body to still, the pull on his  
cock and nipples was almost unbearable and  
incredibly erotic.

Beauty heard an approving noise, felt his flanks  
stroked firmly and then those hands were on his  
thighs, separating them. His knees were raised,  
attached to something and Beauty relaxed into the  
comfort of being bound, waiting for the feeling of  
a hard cock slamming into him.

When it didn't happen, he opened his eyes  
curiously. The man, short brown hair not even  
mussed, eyes serene and peaceful, was fully  
dressed, standing silently between Beauty's legs  
looking at him. Just looking at him, not  
touching, not needing, not satisfying. Simply  
looking at him.

Beauty forced himself to stay still, to lose  
himself within the beat pouring through the room.  
The drug, the chains, the slow burn in his nipples  
and cock were delicious in symphony with the  
pounding of the drums.

The long finger sliding into him was a surprise,  
shocking him into pumping his hips and yanking  
painfully on the chains stretched tight across his  
torso. He cried out at the sudden pain and lifted  
his head to look at the man between his legs,  
feeling the leather cuffs pull against his upper  
arms. A palm set firmly on Beauty's stomach  
stilled him and the single digit within him became  
two. Those sober brown eyes never left Beauty's  
face. The man didn't speak to correct or warn or  
direct.

Beauty opened his mouth to question, to ask  
direction and that hand on his stomach pressed  
down firmly. The dark-haired man shook his head  
slowly and steadily pulled the chains connecting  
Beauty's piercings. A long, low wail slid from  
beneath Beauty's lips and he felt the beginnings  
of fluttering panic. The fear tasted metallic in  
his throat.

He savored it.

The hand stretching Beauty's chains retreated and  
wrapped itself around his weeping cock, absently  
toying with the slippery ring. Slowly, driving  
with the rhythm, two fingers became three and  
Beauty had to force himself into stillness. He  
was stretched, full and he wanted to rock against  
those fingers, pump his hips madly. The burn was  
delicious, making his thighs tremble. The  
fingers, those long, thin fingers danced within  
his body, forcing him to feel the sweet ache  
building within his balls.

When the fourth oiled finger was added, the  
ice-cold pain was exquisite. Beauty could feel  
his body shaking, trying to deny entrance to that  
elegant white hand. He began making tiny cries,  
the sounds wrenched from his throat, filling his  
ears, superceding the pounding music. His eyes  
were wide-open, staring sightlessly up at the  
ceiling, trying desperately not to move against  
that hand. His world was reduced down to his  
aching nipples and cock and those fingers  
stretching his anus, manipulating his prostate.

He barely registered the pinprick on his lower  
thigh as he was injected again.

The drug overran his senses as the man added the  
final digit. Beauty's cry caught in his throat as  
the hand within him formed into a fist, and slowly  
began to move. Nipples, chains, even his swollen  
erection were forgotten as his world was consumed  
by the movement of the hand within him. That long  
elegant hand bumped against his prostate, bright  
sparks of sensation breaking through the  
overwhelming feelings battering him. Tears fueled  
by adrenaline slid down his cheeks and he laughed  
wildly, breathing in the pressure and the pain and  
the movement that wouldn't end.

The pain and pleasure flowed throughout his body,  
creating images behind his eyes that were echoes  
of flying, of moving, of loving and oh, Force, he  
was screaming and he was coming and the room was  
full of Light and music.

He woke up in the morning on one of the low  
couches in the dressing room, make-up smeared with  
tearstains and sweat. He went to get his credits  
and morning hit of panac before he found something  
to eat.


	6. Chapter 6

The beep of the comm panel startled Qui-Gon out of  
his brooding. Reflexively looking at the incoming  
caller identification, even though it could only  
be one being, Qui-Gon groaned and answered Yoda's  
signal. "My Master."

"My Padawan. The search -- how goes it?"

Qui-Gon paused, glad that the call was voice only  
so Yoda wouldn't see the look on his face. "I saw  
him. But he ran, and now I'm following again."

"Hm. Like not what I'm going to ask you, then."

Trying to gather serenity around himself, Qui-Gon  
countered, "Master, we've been through this many  
times before. I must find my padawan. Now, more  
than ever. I'm close. I can't return to the  
Order until I've helped Obi-Wan."

"Help him you may, but at what cost? The Darkness  
is gathering. Need you, we do."

"But you've said yourself you don't know what form  
the Darkness will take. I'm doing what I must  
now, for myself and for Obi-Wan. It's my fault he  
was injured -- everything he's done and become  
since then is my fault." Qui-Gon paused to take  
several deep breaths, seeing Obi-Wan's face as he  
turned from kissing the Zabrakian racer, lips wet  
with his own blood. "Surely Obi-Wan deserves the  
chance to be healed."

"Forgotten, have you, the needs of the many? What  
good will having Obi-Wan be when Darkness has  
fallen across the galaxy?"

Something in Yoda's tone had the hairs on the back  
of his neck standing up. His master sounded  
worried, no...scared. "You have seen that the  
Darkness is imminent?"

"Difficult to see, but feel it, I do."

A chill swept through Qui-Gon as he contemplated  
abandoning his search. No. He couldn't leave  
Obi-Wan -- not now when he'd finally found him.  
Couldn't give up on him, no matter what his  
condition -- or the fate of the galaxy. It was  
selfish, but that's the way it was. "I can't  
leave him."

"Stubborn, you are. Sure that Obi-Wan would want  
you to deny the Order for him?"

"Don't push me! I am no longer bound to follow  
you. I will not abandon him; I will find Obi-Wan  
and the galaxy be damned!" Qui-Gon roared.

"Hm -- much anger I feel. Face it you must."

Shocked at his own outburst, Qui-Gon unclenched  
his hands, absently noticing the crescents  
indented in his palms. "Forgive me."

"Forgive yourself, you must."

Yoda's signal ended and Qui-Gon stared into space,  
contemplating his master's words. He was stunned  
at the vehemence of his reaction. All this time,  
he'd tried to remain coolly in control, even as  
time after time he'd been thwarted, had had to  
turn away without Obi-Wan. Now that he was close  
to finding Obi-Wan, he realized how far away he'd  
strayed from the Light.

He needed to attempt to meditate before he reached  
Corellia.

*****

Water.

Clear. Calm. Smooth.

Qui-Gon focused on the lake, its still surface,  
its crystal depths. Submerging himself, he felt  
the water, became the water.

Peaceful. Quiet. Cool.

Qui-Gon watched as sunlight filtered through the  
water, diffuse, highlighting the sand and pebbles  
at the bottom, contrasting their solid texture  
with the ephemeral lightness of photons.

Beautiful. Pure. Obi-Wan.

As if in slow motion, Qui-Gon felt a droplet of  
rain hit the surface of the lake, spreading  
ripples radiating in all directions until all  
parts of the water were disturbed.

Disquiet. Misunderstanding. Retreat.

From a single drop, the rain increased, pelting  
the surface. Wind whipped up, generating foaming  
waves. Lightning flashed, harshly illuminating  
the storm, followed by thunder, reverberating  
through Qui-Gon's body.

Darkening. Danger. Pain.

The storm was in full force, tossing, buffeting,  
drowning. There was no escape, no safe harbor, no  
hope.

Fight. Survive. Surrender.

Acceptance.

*****

Sitting quietly on the meditation mat, Qui-Gon  
considered his situation. He had set in motion a  
chain of events that had quickly and unexpectedly  
escalated into a horrific tragedy. He had lost  
everything that held meaning to him, everyone he  
loved. Was it any wonder he had become obsessed  
with righting the wrong, with regaining that which  
was lost?

He wasn't ready to accept all that had happened,  
all he and Obi-Wan had become. He certainly  
didn't see how they fit into Yoda's fear of  
gathering Darkness; his purpose was to find  
Obi-Wan. Once his padawan was whole again, then  
he would deal with whatever repercussions two men  
in a vast universe could create. He would let  
Yoda worry about the galaxy, just as Yoda had  
taken care of the political situation on Larquis.  
Qui-Gon didn't have the energy to spare the galaxy  
\-- he was still trying desperately to save his  
padawan.

The painful realization that Obi-Wan was no longer  
his padawan -- no longer looked or acted or felt  
like his padawan -- washed over Qui-Gon. He would  
have to accept this change, even as his mind cried  
out against it. He would have to, or Obi-Wan  
would truly be lost to him.

He tried to remember the times when they had been  
happy, growing together in the Order, serving the  
Light. There were so many beautiful, vibrant  
moments, yet without Obi-Wan, without their bond,  
their love, the moments were pale.

He wanted the color, the Light back in his life


	7. Chapter 7

Corellia grew bigger and brighter until her  
cloud-swirled image dominated the viewscreen.  
Qui-Gon slowed the ship and prepared to land at  
the capital. He couldn't feel Obi-Wan in the  
Force, but knew in his heart that he was close.  
He would find Obi-Wan here, before there was  
another chance for him to escape.

A few well-placed questions gave him the location  
of the ship Obi-Wan had boarded. Walking into the  
docking port, Qui-Gon spotted several men working  
on the ship. Hoping they could give him  
information, he approached them. "Greetings,  
friends, perhaps I could have a word with you."  
Qui-Gon projected sincerity and harmlessness.

A short man turned, taking a step closer to  
Qui-Gon. Eyes narrowing as he saw the size of the  
man before him, he asked belligerently, "What do  
you want?"

Smiling and tilting his head submissively, Qui-Gon  
said, "I'm looking for a passenger of yours, a man  
with colored markings on his body."

The man snorted, leering at Qui-Gon. "A lot of  
people would like to find that one, I think. Adu  
is heartbroken that he turned out to be so  
independent."

Laughter erupted from the rest of the crew.

"So he's no longer with you?" Qui-Gon wasn't  
surprised that Obi-Wan had gone, but he'd had to  
check first just to be sure.

"No, he left right after we landed," the short man  
said. "Too bad Adu kept him busy during the  
flight, we would have liked to have gotten to know  
him better."

Qui-Gon fought the urge to beat the insulting  
smile off the man's face, telling himself it would  
serve no useful purpose to cause a scene.  
Instead, he grinned widely and said  
conspiratorially, "Definitely worth the effort.  
Any idea where he went?"

"Naw, but if you find him, be sure to send him our  
regards."

"I will," Qui-Gon gritted out, nodding slightly  
and turning quickly away. When he was out of  
sight of the ship, Qui-Gon stopped and took a  
moment to calm himself. He had to be careful --  
he was becoming more and more territorial about  
Obi-Wan.

Equilibrium restored, Qui-Gon set off to look in  
the next logical place, the red-light district.  
Since Obi-Wan had left D'aebka so quickly, Qui-Gon  
assumed he was traveling light and would have to  
work for money -- to get him away from here and to  
supply his drug habit. Unfortunately, in a city  
this size there would be many establishments to  
search.

Returning to his ship briefly, Qui-Gon changed  
from his drab, loose fitting clothing to his tight  
leather pants and a no-sleeved chain mail shirt.  
Strapping a blaster to his thigh and a large knife  
at his waist next to a money pouch, Qui-Gon  
completed his outfit by tucking a small throwing  
knife into the side of his boot. It never hurt to  
be prepared.

*****

Qui-Gon walked along the street, reaching out into  
the darkening twilight, searching for a hint of  
the familiar spark that was uniquely Obi-Wan.  
Even now, injured and hidden behind a  
Force-inhibiting collar, the core essence of his  
padawan was unmistakable.

Finally, he paused in front of an establishment,  
hearing the music pounding through the walls.  
Excitement tingled down his spine. Ignoring the  
public entrance, he drifted to a red door, tracing  
his fingers over the knob. Obi-Wan had been  
here. He just knew it.

Opening the door, he stepped into a small office.  
The pink-haired woman behind the desk was dividing  
her attention between her datapad and the security  
screens that let her monitor her club. She looked  
up as he entered, eyes widening. "Oh my. You're  
exquisite, dearie."

Smiling slightly, Qui-Gon nodded his head in  
acknowledgement. "Thank you, but I'm here looking  
for someone, not a job."

Pouting, the woman gestured to a chair. "Too bad  
\-- you could make a killing." Shrugging to  
herself and moving on to other business, she said,  
"I'm Tani. What sort of someone are you looking  
for?"

"A man with colored markings on his body."

"Ah, that's easy -- Beauty. Yes, he got here  
yesterday."

"I want him," Qui-Gon said softly.

Raising an eyebrow at the underlying note of  
possession, Tani said, "Yeah, you and everybody  
else. I'm sorry, he's with a customer right now.  
Perhaps if you came back later tonight?"

Qui-Gon tried to see Obi-Wan in the viewscreen  
images of private rooms, but they were hidden  
enough that he couldn't make out any one form. He  
wanted to scream at this woman that Obi-Wan was  
his, that he didn't care who Obi-Wan was  
entertaining, he wanted to see his padawan  
immediately. Instead, he tamped down his  
insistence and stood. As he stepped through the  
door, he turned, looking Tani straight in the eyes  
and saying firmly, "I'll be back."

*****

Of course, he wasn't going to give up so easily.  
Qui-Gon had seen the protective glint in Tani's  
eyes. She might decide to tell Obi-Wan that  
someone was looking for him, and that, of course,  
could ruin everything. He entered the club  
through the main door, and proceeded to weave his  
way through the moving bodies, searching to be  
sure Obi-Wan wasn't here.

He was stopped by a slender young woman, who  
draped her arm around his back and leaned in close  
to be heard over the pounding music. "Hiya,  
handsome, love the way you feel."

Although the chain mail shirt was exquisitely  
crafted and, indeed, did feel incredible against  
his skin, Qui-Gon was not interested in the ploys  
of the young woman. Disentangling himself gently,  
Qui-Gon purred, "Thanks, but I'm already spoken  
for."

"Just my luck. Maybe some other time."

Qui-Gon held himself still as she patted his ass  
before leaving him standing alone again.

After several men and women had approached him and  
he'd turned them all away, Qui-Gon had completed  
his tour of the club. Now, he intended to search  
the back rooms. He walked to the hallway entrance  
but before he'd taken a step inside, a large,  
rather unpleasant-looking Rolocian barred his way.

"Tani asks that you stay in the club until Beauty  
is done with his client," the Rolocian growled.

"Thank you for the message." Qui-Gon gathered the  
Force and subtly waved his hand before the guard.  
"Tani wants me to admit you."

The guard's face went strangely slack and his  
voice was flat as he mimicked, "Tani wants me to  
admit you."

Stepping past the Rolocian, Qui-Gon quickly ducked  
into the hallway, focusing on the rooms for any  
sign of his padawan. His breathing quickened as  
he felt a starburst of sensation -- pain,  
pleasure, freedom -- ripple through the Force.  
Qui-Gon leaned his shoulder and head against the  
wall, staggered for a moment by the strength of  
Obi-Wan's release.

Now he knew which door Obi-Wan was behind.

Straightening, Qui-Gon hurried down the hall, only  
to be intercepted by Tani, pink hair falling in  
her eyes, blaster drawn. "Please don't make me  
hurt you," she said, the steel tone of her voice  
indicating she would do what it took to protect  
her workers and keep the peace.

"I'm not here to hurt him." Qui-Gon reached out  
with the Force again. "I'll put the blaster  
down."

Tani's arms shook as she heard herself say, "I'll  
put the blaster..."

Qui-Gon waved his hand again. "Down."

"Down." Slowly Tani lowered the weapon, confusion  
clearly written on her face.

Reaching out, Qui-Gon took the blaster from her  
loosened grip and dismissed her from his  
thoughts. Turning to the door, Qui-Gon opened it,  
entering to find Obi-Wan...

Gone.

Again.

Trying to control his disappointment, Qui-Gon  
scanned the room quickly. A large bed dominated  
the room, its sheets crinkled and damp. There  
were no windows but what looked like a closet door  
actually led to an exit. Qui-Gon stalked out the  
door, looking up and down the deserted back  
alley. There was no one there -- on the street or  
in the Force.

Obi-Wan had escaped him again.

Dejectedly, Qui-Gon re-entered the room, ignoring  
Tani who hovered at the other door. Sitting on the  
still-warm bed, Qui-Gon picked up a corner of the  
sheet and brushed it along his cheek, feeling the  
soft fabric against his skin, his beard. Burying  
his face in the cloth, Qui-Gon breathed in deeply,  
letting the scent of his padawan wash through  
him. "Obi-Wan, love," he whispered, letting the  
sheet soak up the tear that escaped from the  
corner of his eye.


	8. Chapter 8

He was here, right here in this room. If Beauty  
opened the panel covering the niche within the  
wall and stepped out, he could touch him, stroke  
his face, trace the lines of his beard. He looked  
tired, older, sitting there on the bed where,  
moments before, Beauty had been enthusiastically  
fucked by a well-paying stranger.

When Jinn picked up the sheet and brought it to  
his face, Beauty had shivered, tremors running  
through his body. He couldn't decide if he was  
feeling desire or guilt.

Tani just stood at the door, a stunned look on her  
face. She had sent a warning, telling him that he  
had a very determined visitor. Just the thought,  
the terrified hope that he might be found, had  
brought Beauty to an explosive climax. He had  
barely had time to shove his astonished client out  
the door and slip into the wall compartment before  
Jinn walked in.

Jinn finally stood and faced Tani. His hair was  
longer, plaited into a braid that fell well below  
his shoulders. The body was leaner, whipcord  
muscles moving underneath the leathers he wore.  
"I don't want to hurt him. I just wish to speak  
with him. If he returns, please contact me. My  
ship is at the port. I need to speak with him."

Tani nodded, her pink hair bobbing. "I'll do what  
I can, Mister...?"

"Jinn."

Beauty closed his eyes as he heard the voice that  
haunted his dreams. That voice meant home and  
Light and peace and health. It had no place here,  
no place near his skin, slicked with sweat and  
semen.

The bed springs creaked slightly and Beauty  
listened to the hard boot heels click upon the  
floor. When he opened his eyes, the room was  
empty.

Jinn was gone.

Beauty stood for a moment and then slipped out  
from behind the piece of paneling. He quickly  
wiped himself down with the damp cloth on the  
small table beside the bed and slipped into his  
leather pants. Moving around the bed, he slowly  
ran his fingers along the sheet where Jinn had  
sat. A long strand of silver hair lay, almost  
invisible on the white sheets. Ben picked it up,  
wrapping it absently around his finger.

Tani came in quietly. "You okay, Beauty?"

Beauty nodded and forced a smile. "Fine."

"Old lover?" Her face was sharp and curious.

Beauty shook his head. "Old master. He feels we  
have unfinished business." When Tani opened her  
mouth to ask more questions, Beauty interrupted.  
"Look, I need a walk. I'll be around later."

Tani brushed hair out of her eyes, watching Beauty  
closely. "Be careful, dearie."

With a short nod and a smile, Beauty slipped out  
the door and walked the long streets, hoping for a  
glimpse of a tall man in chains and leather.

*****

Crouched beside a ship, Beauty peered out at the  
tall, leather-clad figure walking towards a small  
transport. He had stealthily followed Jinn  
throughout the evening, watching as he searched  
through clubs and taverns.

"Looking for me. He's still looking for me." The  
words, said out loud, were almost a mantra of  
hope. It had been delicious, watching him walk.  
People were drawn to his strength, his power, and  
yet, Jinn turned them all aside. "He's looking  
for me."

Beauty's eyes were captured by a small, hooded  
figure moving gracefully towards his former  
master. He began to move forward, instinctively,  
to protect the back of the one he had been trained  
to follow, when the figure pulled back her hood.

Beauty heard Jinn's voice, unsurprised and tired,  
in the dead air of night. "Gaz-na'hr."

"Master Jinn."

Beauty's breath began to quicken. Jedi Master  
Gaz-na'hr. How many nights had he spent in the  
common room in her quarters, studying with Pzed?  
She had always been quick to laughter, her  
reptilian face seeming vaguely menacing even in  
joy.

"What can I do for you?"

Gaz-na'hr's facial scales flushed a bright green  
and she clicked deep within her throat. "You are  
not an easy man to find, Jinn. They have sent me  
to retrieve you. Master Yoda wishes you to return  
to the Temple."

The large hands dismissed her with a wave. "I  
have spoken to Master Yoda. He knows of my  
plans." Jinn began to move around the other Jedi  
towards the transport. Gaz-na'hr moved to block  
him, forcibly continuing the conversation.

"Master Jinn, your presence at the Temple is  
requested immediately."

Jinn simply shook his head, long hair moving on  
his back. Beauty tensed. Even at his master's  
most recalcitrant, he had never directly disobeyed  
an order from the Council. Why had they sent  
Gaz-na'hr? She wasn't an envoy and she rarely  
took off-world missions, spending most of her time  
teaching. Pzed had spent many evenings  
complaining that he had to do his mission training  
with other masters.

Pzed.

Beauty closed his eyes as the memory of his  
friend's pain-filled eyes hit him. Those bright,  
laughing eyes dimming as Pzed's body slid slowly  
down the salle wall, leaving a bloody smear.  
Those eyes emptying as he died. Died.

Murdered. Murdered by Beauty's own hand.

Beauty felt the anguish bloom within him again.  
Jinn could not be allowed to find him. Beauty  
could not bear to see the disappointment in those  
eyes -- better just to let it be. He was no  
longer a Jedi padawan, a champion of the Light.  
No, he was a whore, addicted to panac and pain and  
waiting for the moment when he would have the  
courage to simply stop.

When Beauty opened his eyes, he blinked and shook  
his head, trying to understand what he saw.  
Gaz-na'hr knelt before his former master. Within  
her upheld claws, she held Jinn's lightsaber. His  
'saber? Why would she have his 'saber?

Jinn's hand raised with an involuntary jerk,  
stopping just short of touching that undeniable  
symbol of Jedi authority.

Gaz-na'hr looked up at him and Beauty saw the  
patterns in her skin swirl with sadness. "Master  
Jinn. Qui-Gon. We have both lost our padawan  
learners. There is not a day that I do not mourn  
my Pzed. I miss his laughter, his strength. He  
would have made a great mediator. He was already  
my friend." The harsh voice cracked under the  
intensity of her emotions. "I understand your  
pain, Jinn, but denying your destiny will not ease  
you."

The lightsaber was raised, inching closer to the  
outstretched hand where it belonged.

Beauty watched, fascinated, as the big shoulders  
slumped and the hand dropped back to Jinn's side  
with an audible thump. "I cannot, Gaz-na'hr. I  
am so close. I cannot."

Jinn moved around the kneeling Jedi quickly and  
hurried up the ramp of his transport. Beauty  
wasn't sure if the man heard the final words  
hurled at him. "We have lost two Jedi, Jinn. Do  
not make it three. Return to where you belong!"

Beauty turned and walked back towards town, face  
blank and emotionless. He retrieved his bag  
without alerting Tani and took the dosage of panac  
he was due. One sentence kept bouncing through  
his mind -- return to where you belong.

Return to where you belong.

*****

He had enough credits to buy a filthy bunk on a  
rusty transport. As the cold of space seeped  
through his bones, Beauty whispered to himself,  
"Return to where you belong."

*****

The ship was dark, lit only by the occasional  
blink of colored monitor lights. It didn't  
matter, though. Qui-Gon had spent enough time  
here to move effortlessly through the tight  
corridor into the small bedroom. He paced for a  
moment, feeling like a caged Noor-tiger, too keyed  
up to sleep, too tired to stay awake.

After losing Obi-Wan at Tani's, he'd combed the  
district, searching for any sign of his padawan.  
It had been frustrating and exhausting, and he was  
no closer to finding Obi-Wan -- who seemed to have  
gone to ground. To make matters worse, Yoda had  
sent Gaz-na'hr to confront him with his duty to  
the Jedi. Seeing his lightsaber in another's hand  
had felt incredibly wrong, but he couldn't claim  
it before finding Obi-Wan.

Damnation -- it was all just too much! Qui-Gon  
wanted to scream and rant and break things, his  
disappointment was so great. He'd sat on a bed  
still warm with Obi-Wan's heat, the sheets imbued  
with Obi-Wan's scent. Groaning, Qui-Gon tried to  
control his growing erection. Beneath the pain of  
loss, there was need, insistent, undeniable. He  
felt instinctively possessive of Obi-Wan, hating  
that he slept with others while running from his  
master.

Stripping off his clothes, Qui-Gon stood in the  
dark, letting his anger and fear and lust swirl  
around him. He couldn't dissipate his emotions.  
Earlier he had felt Obi-Wan in the Force -- felt  
the energy of Obi-Wan's orgasm. The strength of  
it still reverberated in his mind, shockingly  
powerful, tormenting his body.

Defeated, Qui-Gon settled on the bed. He wrapped  
his large hand around his cock and quickly, almost  
brutally, began to pump it. Images of Obi-Wan  
played behind his closed eyelids.

Green and blue lightsabers carved intricate  
patterns through the air, coming together with a  
crackle of energy, beautiful and dangerous.

His apprentice, face serious but eyes laughing,  
danced with him, 'sabers following the ancient  
movements of the kata, connecting them in the  
Force.

Skin slick with sweat, breathing harsh, his  
padawan danced with him, bodies connecting  
intimately, moving together in primal abandon.

Tight heat, incredible pleasure, minds and bodies  
one in the Force.

Obi-Wan.

Exhausted, Qui-Gon tried to control his ragged  
breathing, waiting for his heartbeats to slow.  
Absently, he touched his hand along his stomach,  
rubbing semen into his skin. Obi-Wan. He had to  
find Obi-Wan. Settling into a fitful sleep,  
Qui-Gon dreamt of his Obi-Wan, beautiful and  
dangerous.


	9. Chapter 9

The festival of rebirth was slowing down and M'lss  
grinned tiredly at the bonfires burning in the  
distance. Her people were celebrating their  
freedom for the first time in longer than she  
cared to believe. Their joy and passion danced  
along the wind and she smiled as she walked  
through the emptying streets.

One day, perhaps in the next few years, she would  
have handmaidens, women who could help her find a  
mate. One day she would be dressed in silks of  
blues and pinks, running amongst the trees, chased  
by the one who wanted her. One day she would give  
birth to yet another Marshon D'lth.

One day she would die here, held within the arms  
of her people.

The city still smelled of ash on mornings when the  
wind blew strongly, but the people were returning,  
rebuilding. There would be more children soon,  
learning to weave, boys running through the  
streets laughing, girls playing in the open  
grasses.

Soon the land would purge the evil that had  
visited it and the people of Larquis would be  
whole.

Soon.

M'lss wandered into the huge stone building which  
had held the Loom for generations. When Nan had  
been alive, these rooms had been full with women  
weaving, talking, laughing. The colors had burst  
out, dancing throughout the room. M'lss smiled.  
Life was full of color then, cloths covering the  
walls like sunsets over oceans.

The walls were newly white, waiting for their  
adornment. M'lss walked over to the smaller  
Looms, running the silken threads through her tiny  
fingers. The new cloths were the sunlight  
filtering through the forest canopy, beams  
catching on smooth river stones and sinking into  
fallen logs.

A noise from the back of the building startled her  
and the fabric slipped from her fingers. "Easy,  
M'lss, the soldiers are gone. They have gone away  
and you are the Marshon D'lth and you are safe  
here. The soldiers are gone." Her whisper  
sounded loud in the empty space.

M'lss walked back into the room where the Loom was  
kept and stopped short. A man stood there,  
dressed in a simple outfit of leggings and a cream  
tunic, his long auburn hair gathered in a loose  
ponytail at the base of his neck. He didn't move,  
didn't touch the cloth on the Loom. He simply  
stared at it as if fascinated.

The energy surrounding this man was off-kilter,  
odd and broken. M'lss stared, peering at the  
colors swirling around him. There was no harmony  
here, only loose shreds streaked with blood and  
the dark purples of fear. His head and his heart  
were forcibly separated, a black emptiness  
preventing a flow which could bring balance. The  
agony painted around him brought tears to her eyes  
and yet, there was something familiar about the  
way he felt, some of those scars were so...

"Young Jedi!"

He whirled around, eyes wide. "Oh! Pardon me! I  
just wanted to see the Marshon..."

"I am the Marshon D'lth." The man looked  
charmingly young and naïve for a moment, before  
M'lss noted the unnatural age around his eyes.  
She had seen that age on men who had buried their  
wives, their sons. That age was sowed by pain.

M'lss looked at the young man, not bothering to  
hide her concern. "What brings you here, to my  
Loom on this night of festivity? Do you wish to  
find a mate to celebrate the coming of the  
spring?"

"No, Lady. I...I have no need for a mate and find  
myself unable to celebrate with your people."

"Surely to celebrate is an easy enough task,  
Jedi..."

He held his hand up, making a sound that grated  
with sorrow. "Not a Jedi. Not anymore. Not for  
a long time, my Lady. I came to speak with you,  
to beg a favor."

"A favor, Je..."

"Obi-Wan, my lady. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."  
That rough voice stumbled over the syllables as if  
he were not used to saying them.

"What favor, Obi-Wan? What can I do to help  
you?" Those slumped shoulders straightened and  
Obi-Wan looked at her. His eyes were old stones,  
worn and dull. "Oh, your light, Obi-Wan. Your  
poor eyes and your light." Tears began to flow  
down M'lss cheeks, tracing the deep ritual scars  
that traced from eye to chin.

The young man moved, knelt before her and touched  
his head to the floor. "I have come seeking the  
Marshon D'lth. I have need of a Weaver to heal  
great wrongs which have been committed. I am a  
willing and able participant in the Weaving." He  
looked up into her eyes. "I wish to sacrifice  
myself to the Web."

Her hands already moving down to touch his head in  
the ritual acceptance, M'lss stopped. "You...you  
wish..."

The dead stone eyes never wavered. "I wish to  
sacrifice myself to the Web. I wish to release  
this spirit to serve the greater Weave, to replace  
the evils I have committed with Light."

M'lss blinked, words caught in her throat. She  
could feel the hope, the need pouring off the  
trembling body kneeling before her. So young, so  
young to ask this of her. "You...you understand  
this is not an easy path, Jed...Obi-Wan? There  
will be much pain, many tears."

Obi-Wan nodded his head gently. "I understand,  
Marshon. I have already shed many tears. I have  
caused many tears. I would repay my debt, right  
what I have unsettled. Once my spirit is freed,  
another who is tied to me may also be released so  
he may reclaim his destiny, stand in the Light as  
is his right."

M'lss sighed and her breath caught a light wisp of  
Obi-Wan's hair. She watched it float up, hang  
momentarily and then settle against his cheek.  
Reaching down she brushed the hair back, feeling  
the rough stubble against her hand. "I will do my  
duty towards you. The N'sha offer their gifts  
freely to those who come open-handed."

Obi-Wan's relief was palpable as he stood.  
"When? When can we do this?" His voice trembled  
faintly and M'lss frowned.

"You must meditate, ready yourself. Tomorrow we  
will feast and speak of your life, of your hopes  
and joys, of your loves. Tomorrow you and I will  
celebrate that which you wish to bring with you.  
Then you will cleanse yourself and meditate for  
four dawns. On the fifth dawn, you will come to  
me and we will release your spirit."

Obi-Wan's eyes sparked with something that might  
be termed anger in a less empty man. "Marshon,  
that's six days. I had hoped that we could be  
quick..."

M'lss noted his reaction as she let her face slip  
into the mask of disapproval that she had seen her  
Nan wear so many times. "I will honor your  
request, Jedi, but I will not deny the Loom her  
ritual. You ask to weave yourself into the heart  
and soul of the N'sha, of the people of Larquis.  
You will become the air we breathe, the water that  
nourishes us, the soil beneath our feet." She  
raised herself up stiffly, chin jutting out  
proudly. "You have suffered and my heart is sore  
for your pain. My people have also suffered.  
Children have died, mothers have held bleeding  
babies to their breasts. Men have lost those who  
make them whole. I have listened to mourning  
songs for more moons than I care to remember. You  
are not the only one in pain, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My  
wishes will be respected."

Obi-Wan sank to his knees again, bowing his head.  
"My apologies, Marshon. I will be honored to  
complete the required rituals."

"You have not completely forgotten the art of  
diplomacy, Obi-Wan. That, in itself, is a  
remarkable thing." She reached down and stroked  
the soft hair again. "Come, let me find you a  
bed. Tomorrow we will celebrate you."

The sad, tired man, seeming to be a wraith  
creeping along behind her, followed M'lss up to  
the restored upper levels of the building. With a  
sigh, she led him to a small cot covered in soft  
blankets. She pulled the coverings back and  
watched as he slid in, an exhausted child who had  
seen something that was not meant for him. With a  
heavy heart, M'lss reached out and coaxed him into  
a deep sleep.

She looked at his face for a moment, seeing the  
tattered remnants of the sad but hopeful boy she  
remembered. "I will do my duty towards you, Young  
Jedi," she murmured, "but not with joy in my  
heart."

M'lss slipped silently down the steps, seating  
herself on the stool before the Loom. She grabbed  
the shuttle and began her own meditation, watching  
as the warmth of the sun replaced the sallow glow  
of the candles. With a grimace, she stood up and  
headed outside, meeting the tired and happy faces  
of her people. She smiled, and with that smile  
came no small pain. She raised her hands, palms  
upward, towards the people who looked to her for  
hope. "The Festival is over. The people of  
Larquis will bloom with the flowers. Let our  
lives begin anew."

She was back at her Loom before the cheering died  
away.


	10. Chapter 10

She brushed out her black hair and wove it into a  
long braid before donning a soft ivory gown.  
M'lss was weary and heartsore and she was afraid  
she looked it. The day before, Obi-Wan had  
celebrated his life with her. They had spoken of  
his joy at being chosen to be a padawan, of  
lightsaber competitions won, of scared children  
comforted by his hand. Obi-Wan had smiled as he  
shared the joy of hot cha on a cold morning, of  
watching a field bloom to life, nurtured by the  
Force. He had told her of the bliss of being held  
within his master's arms and how he did not regret  
living that moment.

He had spoken of his sorrow -- of the agony of  
living without the Force he had grown to depend on  
for succor, of the realization that, in his ill  
discipline, he had taken the life of another  
Jedi. With tears in his eyes, the young man had  
admitted to wandering lost, looking for some  
emotion, some sensation to fill his aching soul,  
to stop his pain.

M'lss had slowly turned the conversation back to  
the joys in Obi-Wan Kenobi's life. His smile had  
been genuine, if filled with loss, as he spoke of  
friends, colleagues, even sworn enemies become  
shieldmates. He had spoken of his first kiss, the  
joys of playing hoverball and the freedom of  
flying that not even his current situation could  
steal away from him. He had smiled as he recalled  
bright, hot moments of passion and fierce  
competitions with fiercer competitors. He had  
lived moments of dancing and drinking and the  
pleasures found in the softness of night that  
contrasted with a youth of study and contemplation  
and the bliss of the Light upon his face.

By the end, all tears had been shed, laughter had  
been shared and both M'lss and Obi-Wan had been  
exhausted.

When he had fallen asleep, body worn from the lack  
of drugs it was used to, M'lss had contacted the  
little Jedi Master on Coruscant. After a brief  
flurry of conversation, which M'lss was not  
entirely sure she followed, the Jedi had directed  
her to Master Jinn, who was searching for Obi-Wan.

M'lss frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that  
speaking with Obi-Wan's former master was the  
right thing to do. It had been obvious from the  
agony in the younger man's face as he'd spoken of  
Qui-Gon Jinn that there was layer upon layer of  
pain between them.

M'lss sat before the old comm unit, weighing her  
options. He would come, if she contacted him.  
She had no doubt; she had seen the determination  
mixed with an odd brand of fury in his eyes when  
they had met before. The tall, bearded man had  
petrified her, had her sobbing into her hands like  
a child. Of course, then, she'd been more of a  
child.

With a sigh, she entered the necessary digits to  
contact Master Jinn.

"Jinn here."

"Master Jinn. This is the Marshon D'lth."

"Yes, M'lss. My master informed me you wanted to  
speak with me. However, I am extremely short on  
time. I have an appointment to keep." The once  
vibrant voice was dull and strained. "What can I  
do for you?"

"I believe it is what I can do for you, Master  
Jinn. I understand you are in the market for  
information?"

A long pause. "I wasn't aware you were in the  
business of selling information, Marshon."

"The N'sha give freely, Master Jinn. It would  
serve both you -- and your padawan learner -- to  
remember the lessons of diplomacy your master  
taught you." M'lss allowed her voice to settle  
into the frozen frustration she had been fighting  
since the young Jedi had reappeared at her Loom,  
making physical her first act as Marshon D'lth  
five years ago -- and her first failure.

"My padawan learner?" The Jedi master's voice  
lost its air of impassivity. "Obi-Wan? You've  
heard from my Obi-Wan?"

"I have not simply heard from your Obi-Wan, Master  
Jinn. In truth, he is sleeping three rooms away  
from me."

"How long has he been there? How does he seem?  
Is he healthy? Has he..."

M'lss closed her eyes against the barrage of  
questions. If she didn't know better, she would  
believe the Jedi master was attempting to draw  
information directly from her mind, even though  
there were systems separating them.

"Master Jinn! Obi-Wan came to me on festival  
night. He is very tired, very ill, in mind and  
body. He wishes to make amends for the pains he  
has caused."

"He asked you to contact the Jedi? To contact  
me?" Oh, there was hope there, bright yet  
contained.

"No, Master Jinn. Obi-Wan does not know I have  
contacted your Temple. I do so to honor my own  
heart, for your padawan has made a request of me  
that I cannot deny."

M'lss closed her eyes, hoping that she was being  
drawn to do the right thing, that the sacrifice of  
trust for hope was a fair one.

"A request, M'lss? What request?"

"He wishes to be released, heart and soul into the  
Web. He no longer wishes to inhabit his body, but  
to serve the Light and the Weaving."

An odd noise came over the comm unit, a fierce  
scraping that lasted for three breaths. "Master  
Jinn?"

"He wishes to die?" This voice was fury, low and  
thunderous, laced through with hot despair.  
"After all that I have done for him? After the  
searching, the hope, the tears? All of this and  
he wishes to die?"

"I am sorry, Master Jinn. I am duty bound."

"How long?" The question was snapped so quickly  
that M'lss was confused.

"Sir Jedi?"

"I am not a Jedi. I am Qui-Gon Jinn and I want to  
know when this ritual is to take place!"

"In five dawns. He will meditate until then."

"Five dawns?" There was that hope again, fierce  
and wild.

"Yes, Master Jinn."

"I have your word that Obi-Wan will not enter the  
Web until then."

"You do."

"Thank you, M'lss." The connection was severed.

M'lss straightened her gown and went to assure  
herself the young Jedi still slept. She would do  
her duty, if she had to. With hope and a touch of  
luck, the Master Jedi would do his.


	11. Chapter 11

Qui-Gon was torn between excitement and fear. He  
finally knew where Obi-Wan was, knew that soon he  
would be able to see his apprentice, talk with  
him. The reason Obi-Wan had returned to Larquis  
was serious indeed. After all this time, Obi-Wan  
had given up. Qui-Gon took another deep breath,  
trying to control his need to panic, trying to  
center himself. He would just have to convince  
Obi-Wan to live.

Running his hands through his long hair, Qui-Gon  
sought Obi-Wan's padawan braid, stroking it  
between his fingers in a gesture that had come to  
signify comfort. Even if there was an empty space  
in his mind where their training bond had been  
cruelly severed, he still held a small piece of  
Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon entered the new co-ordinates into his  
ship's navi-comp. He'd spent an incredibly  
frustrating day on Corellia looking for Obi-Wan  
before finding a woman who had seen him boarding a  
transport. Then he'd had to check each planet  
along the ship's route. If Obi-Wan was still on  
the ship, it put Qui-Gon even further behind, but  
if he'd left the transport, there was no telling  
where he could have gone.

Qui-Gon had been about to leave his ship to check  
another lead when M'lss' call had come through.  
Even though he was three days away from Larquis,  
he knew where he was headed and he knew Obi-Wan  
would be there.

There was reason to hope.

*****

The last time Qui-Gon had been to Larquis,  
destruction and death had reigned. Now, the  
cities were being rebuilt and the people were  
cheerful and filled with hope for the future. As  
he walked from his ship to the building housing  
the Loom, Qui-Gon opened himself to the living  
Force, feeling the joy of a people and a land now  
free from oppression.

He wanted to free Obi-Wan and himself from the  
pain, wanted to replace it with the joy of love.

His steps faltered as he entered the stone  
building and approached the Loom. The last time  
he'd stood here, Obi-Wan had floated in the Weave,  
fighting the Dark, and he'd been...helpless,  
desperate. His brooding was interrupted by a soft  
voice.

"You are here."

Qui-Gon turned, looking at the woman before him.  
He remembered her as a scared child. A child  
circumstance had forced to grow up before her  
time. A child he had demanded help his padawan at  
grave risk to herself. Now he was here to make  
further demands of her. "Yes, Marshon, I am  
here. You must not allow Obi-Wan to give himself  
to the Web."

M'lss gazed sadly at the man no longer dressed in  
the uniform of a Jedi master. "Surely you  
understand that I must do my duty as Marshon."  
The last time she'd seen him he'd looked much  
bigger, scary and demanding. Now, he looked worn  
down, tired and desperate. Yet his eyes were the  
same -- a shining crystal blue glinting with  
determination.

"And I must do mine, my Lady. You must let me see  
Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was clear and sure.

"I can tell him that you are here. If he chooses  
to see you, then I will take you to him." M'lss  
knew that was not the answer Qui-Gon sought, but  
it was already a bending of custom and all she  
could offer.

Qui-Gon tensed, gathering himself for an  
argument. Stepping closer to the woman who held  
Obi-Wan's life in her hands, he reasoned, "If you  
hadn't wanted me to talk with him, you wouldn't  
have contacted me." Seeing that he couldn't  
intimidate her with his size, Qui-Gon lowered his  
voice and pleaded, "I must see him, M'lss."

Nodding, M'lss stepped back. The pain etched on  
Qui-Gon's face was heart-wrenching. "I will do  
what I can. Please wait here."

Before he had a chance to push further, M'lss was  
gone and he was alone with the Loom and his  
thoughts. Before the trouble, the people of  
Larquis were renowned as artists and craftsmen.  
The fabric woven on the Looms was more than art --  
it embodied the spirit of the N'sha and the  
individual it was woven for. Obi-Wan had come to  
Larquis to be healed. Instead, he had suffered  
horribly, his cloth stained with Darkness.

Qui-Gon had bullied M'lss into freeing Obi-Wan  
from the Web, but the Darkness was still a part of  
him. All that had happened since then stemmed  
from that taint. Perhaps Obi-Wan had been correct  
in returning to the beginning. Perhaps there was  
a way to cleanse the cloth and heal Obi-Wan.

His thoughts were interrupted as M'lss returned,  
the look on her face already telling him Obi-Wan's  
answer.

Quietly, M'lss said, "Obi-Wan respectfully  
declines to see you."

Moving past M'lss, ignoring her attempts to call  
him back, Qui-Gon strode across the room and into  
the hallway. He would find Obi-Wan and he would  
talk with him -- no matter what.

Following a faint echo of fear and anxiety,  
Qui-Gon opened a door and found Obi-Wan sitting on  
a cot, arms wrapped around up-drawn knees, rocking  
steadily back and forth. "Obi-Wan," he whispered,  
instinctively stepping closer. Joy and love  
pulsed through him as he finally stood before his  
padawan.

Obi-Wan's head jerked upward, his tired, haunted  
eyes meeting Qui-Gon's for only a moment before  
dropping in defeat. "Go away."

Qui-Gon tried to ignore the pain that shot through  
him at Obi-Wan's rejection. "I'm here to help  
you."

Looking through the tangled hair that had fallen  
onto his face, Obi-Wan snarled, "I don't want your  
help. Leave me be."

Taken aback by Obi-Wan's tone, Qui-Gon tried  
again. "Please, let me help."

Laughing cruelly, Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes.  
"Help? You tried to help me before and look how  
well that worked! I've found my own solution to  
the problem -- one that will solve yours as well."

M'lss hurried into the room. "Please, Master  
Jinn, I must insist you leave. You are disrupting  
Obi-Wan's meditations."

Caught between M'lss' responsibility and Obi-Wan's  
rejection, Qui-Gon had to make a decision  
quickly. He needed more time to convince Obi-Wan  
to trust him and not enter the Web. Moving next  
to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon gathered the Force to him and  
placed his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead. "Sleep."

Cradling Obi-Wan's limp body in his arms, Qui-Gon  
turned to face M'lss. "I am going to help him.  
Please give us the chance."

"I will continue to prepare for the ceremony. If  
you cannot convince him to change his mind, you  
will let me do my duty to him."

Slowly, Qui-Gon nodded. "It will be as you wish,  
Marshon."

"You may stay here with him," M'lss offered.

"No, we need to be somewhere else." Qui-Gon  
stepped past M'lss, carrying his padawan out of  
the stone building and through the streets to the  
forest he'd walked through once before when he'd  
searched for the Marshon.

Finding a glade bounded on one side by a granite  
outcrop and canopied by the overhanging branches  
of tall trees, Qui-Gon settled down onto the rich  
carpet of vegetation. Holding his love in his  
arms, Qui-Gon stroked the long hair off Obi-Wan's  
face, his hand seeming huge against the gaunt  
face. "Obi-Wan, love. Please, let me help us."


	12. Chapter 12

Submerged in the living Force, Qui-Gon focused on  
the warmth of the sun on his skin, the subtle  
currents of air carrying the rich smell of soil  
and vegetation, the melodic cry of songbirds. He  
was surrounded by Light. Gathering serenity  
around himself, Qui-Gon opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan still slept against his chest, their  
heartbeats matching. As much as he wanted to  
remain in this peaceful moment, he knew he must  
wake Obi-Wan. Together they had to face the fear  
and the Darkness.

Carefully placing Obi-Wan on the ground, Qui-Gon  
propped him against a boulder. With the  
Force-inhibiting collar still around his neck,  
Qui-Gon couldn't sense Obi-Wan's mental state.  
Touching the damp forehead lightly, Qui-Gon  
whispered, "Wake up, love."

Qui-Gon could see the confusion in his padawan's  
face as he took in the trees and rocks and  
grasses. When his eyes found Qui-Gon, sitting a  
short distance away, they widened as memory  
returned and any pleasure in the tranquil  
surroundings vanished. Before he could object,  
Qui-Gon said quietly, "Please give me a chance to  
talk to you, Obi-Wan."

His beautiful eyes were dull, the lively  
blue-green darkened, and his voice was pained as  
he spoke. "Talk all you like, it can't change  
what must be. I'm tainted with Darkness; I've  
done horrible things. The only way to redeem  
myself is through the Loom." Unable to remain  
still, Obi-Wan pulled his legs to his chest and  
began rocking, trying to dissipate the pain of  
withdrawal.

"You are not evil, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said  
sharply. Startled by the vehemence of his words,  
Qui-Gon spoke more quietly. "The Light still  
shines in you. Together we can find a solution."  
Now that he was actually talking to Obi-Wan, all  
the things he'd wanted to say for so long flew  
from his mind, leaving only his core belief. "I  
love you, Obi-Wan. I want to help free you."

"How can you love me?" Obi-Wan jumped up, pacing  
back and forth. "You don't even know who I am!"

Seeing Obi-Wan's agitation, Qui-Gon stood slowly,  
trying not to intrude into his personal space. "I  
do know you, Obi-Wan, and I love you."

Qui-Gon watched in stunned silence as Obi-Wan tore  
off his shirt, then sat on the boulder and pulled  
off his boots.

"You don't have any idea what I've become."  
Obi-Wan stripped off his pants, standing naked  
with his arms hanging loosely next to his body.  
"Look at me, Master."

Cringing at the way Obi-Wan made "master" sound  
like a curse, Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice.  
The markings he'd seen at the races were now  
clearly visible, and Qui-Gon caught his breath at  
the beauty of the design. The wispy gray lines  
curling about Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders and  
tapering into cool blues and rich greens down his  
abdomen became hot, vibrant red-orange at his  
groin. Looked at as a whole, the design seemed to  
shimmer with movement and life. It was  
incredible. "You are very beautiful, Obi-Wan," he  
said, his voice soft with appreciation.

Obi-Wan ran his hands over his chest, tugging at  
the black metal rings piercing his nipples. "I'm  
not beautiful, I'm tainted. Do you know how many  
beings I've let fuck me?" His hand drifted down  
to caress his cock.

Qui-Gon watched with a combination of pain and  
arousal as Obi-Wan fondled himself. For the first  
time, Qui-Gon noticed the matching metal ring  
piercing the head of Obi-Wan's cock and a ragged  
scar running across his left thigh. "It doesn't  
matter."

"Really? Do you know how many beings I've let  
hurt me?" Obi-Wan turned around, showing his  
back. The wispy lines teased over his shoulders,  
fading to nothing. A series of evenly spaced whip  
scars dominated his upper back, a harsh statement  
written in flesh.

Struggling to control his anger at seeing the  
scars, Qui-Gon growled, "It doesn't matter."

Obi-Wan laughed as he turned, running his hands  
through his hair, flaunting his body. "Even  
without the Force, I can see your rage. You hate  
it that others have touched me. Face the truth --  
I am no longer your perfect, pure padawan."

"It doesn't matter." Qui-Gon moved closer, daring  
to reach out and touch Obi-Wan's chest above his  
heart. "You are beautiful, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon traced his fingers up Obi-Wan's chest to  
the collar, feeling the cold dead-ness of the  
metal as he sought the clasp. Obi-Wan quivered  
beneath his touch, but didn't struggle to get  
away. The look on his face was stunned, an animal  
caught in a trap. A whisper of Force and a soft  
click and Qui-Gon opened the collar, removing it  
from Obi-Wan's neck. Letting it fall unheeded  
from his fingers, Qui-Gon rubbed Obi-Wan's skin  
gently, basking in the feel of Obi-Wan's  
Force-signature.

"You are beautiful, Obi-Wan, on the outside and on  
the inside. Nothing can change the core beauty of  
your spirit."

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan move into his touch, seeming  
to accept his love and support. Obi-Wan's  
tentative smile changed suddenly to a look of  
surprise and then Qui-Gon watched with concern as  
Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back in his head and he went  
limp.

Carefully guiding him down to the ground, Qui-Gon  
focused on Obi-Wan's Force-aura, trying to  
determine his condition and the cause of the  
collapse. He appeared unharmed, simply  
momentarily overwhelmed by the combination of the  
return of the Force, Qui-Gon's emotions, and his  
worn-down body. He should wake up naturally once  
the initial shock subsided.

While waiting, Qui-Gon was compelled to make a  
closer inspection of the changes to Obi-Wan's  
body. His hair was longer, but still soft to the  
touch. Obi-Wan's face was thin and there were  
dark smudges beneath both eyes, like he hadn't  
slept in days. Qui-Gon ran his fingers down  
Obi-Wan's cheek, feeling sorrow at the pain etched  
in the fine lines of the skin.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon looked down  
Obi-Wan's body, trying to reconcile the intricate  
tattoo with his memory of Obi-Wan's flesh.  
Qui-Gon noted the needle marks on the insides of  
Obi-Wan's arms and thighs, and a scar slashing  
across the inside of his right wrist. The  
innocent padawan truly was no more; he had seen  
and done things no one should have to experience.

Without conscious thought, Qui-Gon's fingers  
touched one of the nipple rings, imagining how it  
would feel. Tracing his hand down the beautiful  
art on Obi-Wan's stomach, Qui-Gon was drawn  
inescapably to Obi-Wan's cock and the ring  
piercing the delicate flesh. The pain must have  
been unimaginable. Qui-Gon curled his hand  
protectively around Obi-Wan's shaft, fighting to  
accept the reality of Obi-Wan's need for extreme  
sensation.

Lost in his own confused thoughts, Qui-Gon didn't  
notice when Obi-Wan opened his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

His eyes flashed open and for a breath he was  
experiencing a dream -- his master's hand stroking  
him to erection, loving him. Then the sunlight  
caught on the ring and the dream dissolved around  
him.

His master. Qui-Gon. Touching him...touching him  
like so many beings had paid to touch him and how  
dare he take what Obi-Wan would have given  
freely. The rage swept through him -- a black  
tide -- and for the first time in over five years,  
the Force responded.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" The roar shook  
the trees, and small birds were startled out of  
their nests. Qui-Gon's face was frozen in a mask  
of shock as an unseen hand caught him up and  
slammed him bodily against a large boulder.

Obi-Wan stood, hair standing on end as the newly  
found energy poured through him. He stalked  
towards Qui-Gon, hands gesticulating wildly. His  
heart ached, but the feeling of the Force pouring  
through him was an unbelievable salve to the pains  
within him, Darkness or no.

"How dare you touch me again? Don't you ever get  
tired of taking advantage of me when I can't fight  
back?" Obi-Wan relished the moment of anger in  
his captive's eyes as Qui-Gon struggled against  
the Force holding him down.

The voice sounded as calm as always, though. "I  
don't remember you ever arguing, Obi-Wan. I don't  
remember you asking me to stop."

"To stop? But, Master, I'm a whore, remember?  
That is what happens to poor, lost padawans,  
didn't you know? We learn to fuck for fun and  
profit. Pay me and I will please you. Pay me  
enough and I will give you all I am." Obi-Wan  
stepped close, body moving sinuously over  
Qui-Gon's frame. His hands moved quickly -- even  
in his anger this body felt right, good underneath  
his fingers.

Obi-Wan nuzzled at the warm throat. Oh, he  
smelled like home. Obi-Wan breathed deeply,  
filling himself with memories. With a flat groan  
of need, he raised his head, searching for  
Qui-Gon's mouth.

With a jerk, Qui-Gon moved his lips away,  
preventing their mouths from meeting. Obi-Wan's  
breath caught in his throat as the situation hit  
him. Ripping his body away from Qui-Gon's,  
Obi-Wan glared at him.

"What's the matter, Master?" The honorific was  
dust in his mouth. "Don't you want me?"

"I desire you, Obi-Wan, but not like this."

"No? More rules, Qui-Gon? How many times will  
you decide how and when you want me? I am not a  
child to be made subject to your whims."

"I only wish to help you, Obi-Wan."

"Qui-Gon, it was your help that led me here years  
ago. Your benevolent care has left one padawan  
dead and another irrevocably broken."

"I will not make the same mistakes again. I love  
you."

"Love me?" Obi-Wan felt the panicked laughter  
begin to gather within his chest. "Force! You  
don't know me. I'm a body, Qui-Gon. A hole to be  
fucked for credits so I can get what I need."

"What you need? Listen to yourself, Padawan..."

"I am NOT your fucking padawan anymore!" The  
scream was raw and furious in his throat.

Qui-Gon's eyes were calm and serene. "What does  
it matter, Padawan? I am still your master."

"You and how many others?"

"It doesn't matter how many men, how much pain,  
Padawan. Your heart and soul belong to me. You  
can lie if you wish. You can throw yourself face  
down before strangers. You can destroy all you  
have worked for and it will not matter."

Obi-Wan turned away, jarred in the face of such  
faith, such unshakable hope.

"Do you hear me, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan whispered, the noise sounding lost and  
forlorn, "Not your padawan. Not anymore."

"I will never stop seeking you. If I have to  
search for you within the Force for eternity, I  
will find you and I will not rest until things are  
settled between us." The firm sincerity within  
Qui-Gon's voice rankled and Obi-Wan straightened,  
gathering Beauty's cynicism and inability to be  
hurt around him. Slowly he stalked to Qui-Gon,  
forcing himself to maintain eye contact as he  
closed the distance.

Obi-Wan reached up and stroked the braid within  
Qui-Gon's hair, wrapping it around his hand and  
giving it a firm tug. "And if I don't wish to be  
found?"

"No!" Qui-Gon roared, eyes flashing in fury.  
"Don't you touch that!" The Force restraints  
holding Qui-Gon melted away in a surge of power  
from the older man. Qui-Gon levered up from the  
stone and took a step closer to Obi-Wan, fiercely  
clamping down on the wild surges coming from the  
retreating man.

"This braid is mine now!"

Two steps back.

"You left it on your pillow, Obi-Wan. I woke up  
and you were gone and it was all I had to remember  
you by."

Slowly and steadily they moved across the  
clearing, Qui-Gon implacably herding Obi-Wan, even  
though his padawan still clutched the braid. "I  
woke that morning and searched for you, called for  
you until I had no voice. Your blood was in the  
'fresher, Obi-Wan.

"I found your braid...your padawan braid left  
behind like so much garbage. After everything was  
over, THIS was what you left me."

Obi-Wan found himself backed against a tree, the  
furious Jedi master at his front. He stood  
silent, vision overwhelmed by the face of the man  
he had loved.

"All of this time, Obi-Wan, and this braid is all  
I have had. I will not allow you to take this  
from me. I cannot."

"Fine, Master Jinn. Keep the braid." Obi-Wan  
released it from his hand. "It means nothing to  
me." The almost-lie fell between them, leaden.

The fury seemed to leak from Qui-Gon's face.  
"Answer me one question, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon's hand reached over and  
stroked the still-bald space behind his right ear.

"Did it hurt enough?"

Obi-Wan looked into Qui-Gon's sad, tired eyes and  
told him the truth.

"No. Nothing has, nothing will."

"Let me help you, Obi-Wan. Let me help us." The  
large hand still stroked gently, the steady  
movement comforting both men.

"You say you still love me?"

"With all I am, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan covered the large hand in his own,  
pressing the palm to his jaw. "Then let me go."

Qui-Gon tore his hand away. "I will not. Not  
now."

The tremors running through his arms and legs  
began to make themselves known, the temporary  
boost of Force and adrenaline lessening. Obi-Wan  
sank slowly down the tree. "Qui-Gon, Master, I'm  
broken, tainted. So much pain, so much wrong.  
I...I need the panac, the pain. Please, Qui-Gon,  
if you love me, turn around and walk away. Go  
back to your ship. Go back to the Temple."

Lowering himself next to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon looked  
at him solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"What?"

"Obi-Wan, do you love me?"

The nod was short and full of pain. "I did once,  
when I was a child, when I thought I knew you, but  
I can't..."

Qui-Gon's fingers covered Obi-Wan's lips, holding  
back the flow of words. "No justifications, no  
reasons. Just, do you love me?"

The nod again, covered by a swift shrug of his  
shoulders.

"Then grant me a favor." Obi-Wan was intrigued,  
first by the question and then by the joy filling  
Qui-Gon's voice. "Let me enter the Web with you,  
try to help you. No, don't interrupt -- listen!  
If I can help, then we both come out whole and we  
begin again. If not, then I release you, with my  
good wishes, and I return to the Order."

Obi-Wan considered for a moment. If Qui-Gon got  
into trouble, M'lss would pull him out. Qui-Gon  
was whole and untainted and M'lss wouldn't risk  
him. She would make sure of Qui-Gon's safety.

If it worked, then what would he do? He had no  
place to go, only the empty shell of a life to  
return to. Qui-Gon didn't know, didn't understand  
how far he'd fallen. Once the truth came out,  
once he knew, Qui-Gon would leave. Obi-Wan would  
be alone, but he would have his freedom and the  
Force.

"I have your word? If things are not solved, if I  
cannot escape this, you will release me?"

"I will."

"You will return to the Order? Return to your  
life? Forget about me?"

The larger man shook his head. "I will never  
forget you, Obi-Wan, but I swear to you that, if  
you cannot be healed, I will end your pain and  
return to the Jedi. Not that it matters, I will  
not lose you. This will work."

Oh, if it worked. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and  
nodded once, slowly.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan, for your trust. Now sleep,  
Padawan." Before Obi-Wan could argue that he was  
no one's padawan, not anymore, he was lulled to  
sleep by the song of the Force surrounding him and  
the feel of soft lips feathering across his closed  
eyelids.


	14. Chapter 14

Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan back into town, his steps  
lighter on the return trip, the fading sun warm on  
his face. Obi-Wan trusted him enough to give them  
a chance. He fervently hoped that their answers  
could be found in the Web. While they had made a  
huge step, things were not yet resolved between  
them.

M'lss appeared immediately as he entered the  
building. "Master Jinn, you return."

Qui-Gon nodded, speaking clearly to the composed  
woman before him. "We have come seeking the  
Marshon D'lth. We have need of a Weaver to heal  
great wrongs which have been committed. We are  
willing and able participants in the Weaving."

Eyebrows creeping upward, M'lss responded, "You  
wish to be Woven together?"

"Yes, my Lady. Obi-Wan is willing to let me try  
to help him. If, together, we are unable to erase  
the Darkness, I will allow him to give himself to  
the Web." It was difficult to admit the  
possibility of defeat, but he was honor-bound to  
end Obi-Wan's pain.

M'lss was silent for a time. "I will need  
Obi-Wan's cloth. It must be unraveled and  
re-woven to include your essence."

"I have it in my ship," Qui-Gon said. Even though  
the cloth was stained by Darkness, the rich  
blue-green fabric was beautiful, and Qui-Gon had  
carried it with him all this time.

"Bring Obi-Wan to the meditation room and then  
retrieve the cloth."

"Yes, Marshon. Thank you, my Lady."

*****

M'lss stood before the Great Loom, preparing  
herself for the unprecedented task before her.  
Qui-Gon knew she was uncertain of the outcome, but  
he trusted her to do everything in her power to  
see them safe and healed.

Turning to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon gently woke him up.  
"Obi-Wan?" The awareness and hope in Obi-Wan's  
eyes encouraged Qui-Gon, and he touched Obi-Wan's  
face, sending pulses of comfort and assurance to  
the young man. "We need to ready ourselves."

Obi-Wan smiled cautiously, rubbing his cheek  
against Qui-Gon's huge hand. "Yes, Qui-Gon."

"I need you to remember that, whatever happens, I  
love you. I want you healed so we can be  
together." Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's hair,  
pushing the long strands off his face.

Obi-Wan sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and  
basking in the gentle touch. "I want that, too."

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's forehead and stepped  
back, beginning to take off his clothing. Obi-Wan  
followed his example, removing the clothes Qui-Gon  
had re-dressed him in while he slept.

*****

The men stood side-by-side before the Loom, naked,  
one pale, one vibrantly colored, touching only  
along their sides, the tainted cloth held in their  
outer hands.

M'lss felt the currents of energy flowing around  
them, between them. Pain. Fear. Hope. Love.  
They were ready. Touching the cloth, she said,  
"Enter the Web and be cleansed."

*****

Qui-Gon became aware of their surroundings. They  
stood knee-deep in a clear stream, the cool water  
bubbling gently over sand and pebbles. The  
landscape was barren -- lichens clung to rocks,  
thin soil supported sparse vegetation. The sky  
overhead was tinted pink, decorated with wispy  
clouds.

As he focused on Obi-Wan, he tried not to gasp in  
shock. This form was the same figure he had seen  
in Obi-Wan's subconscious when they'd originally  
removed him from the Web. His padawan was a mass  
of bruises and blood, every part of his body  
appearing tortured and beaten. Qui-Gon tried to  
maintain his composure, but when he realized that  
one of Obi-Wan's eyes had been punctured, the  
fluid running down his face and the eyelid  
protecting an empty socket, Qui-Gon felt fierce  
rage that his padawan had been hurt like this. He  
closed his eyes, sickened by the image.

When he had regained his center, Qui-Gon faced  
Obi-Wan, not exactly sure what to do. "Obi-Wan.  
You must be in such pain. Let me help." Qui-Gon  
reached out, but at the last moment pulled his  
hand back, uncertain if he should touch the  
devastated man.

He'd obviously made the wrong decision. Obi-Wan  
flinched as Qui-Gon's hand fell away, then  
snarled, "I know you don't want to touch me.  
You're too beautiful, too bright." At the  
scathing words, Qui-Gon looked down at himself,  
noticing the luminous glow that suffused his  
body. "Of course you wouldn't want to touch me,  
Qui-Gon. I'm tainted, broken."

"No, it's not that. I didn't want my touch to  
hurt you." Even as Qui-Gon hurried to reassure  
Obi-Wan, he struggled to believe his own words.  
"I love you, Obi-Wan." Despite the grotesque  
vision before him, Qui-Gon knew he spoke the  
truth. "No matter how you appear, I love you.  
I'm here for you."

Obi-Wan tried to smile, but his battered face and  
broken teeth turned it into a ridiculous  
caricature. "But this is what I am. The Darkness  
has infected me. How can I go back?" Defeat was  
clear in his voice.

Feeling the energy of the wind through his unbound  
hair, Qui-Gon reached out to Obi-Wan again. "Take  
my hand, Obi-Wan. Together in love -- it's the  
way to let Light defeat Darkness."

Unmoving, Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon's outstretched  
hand, strong and pure, and then his own, mangled  
and bloodied. "I'm afraid. If I touch you, I'll  
taint you also. I can't risk that."

"Please, Obi-Wan. We love each other. We can  
overcome the Darkness because together our Light  
shines brighter than it does alone. I want to  
touch you. I need you. I love you." Qui-Gon's  
hand remained before Obi-Wan's, unable to force  
Obi-Wan to accept the offer by reaching out  
further. "Please, I love you."

Slowly Obi-Wan's shaking, bloodied hand moved  
closer to Qui-Gon's steady, perfect one. "I want  
to be with you, Qui-Gon. I need you to end the  
pain, the loneliness."

Their fingers touched.

*****

There was a figure in the distance, moving quickly  
towards them, malevolence dripping from him. The  
ground began to tremble slightly and the wind  
carried dark whispers of terror and agony.  
Obi-Wan snatched his hand away from Qui-Gon's and  
began to back away.

"Obi-Wan?"

"No, no I can't. No more, not again. You can't  
make me come back. No more. You promised me and  
I won't come back," the broken man gibbered,  
tripping backwards away from the encroaching  
figure.

"Obi-Wan? What's the matter with you?" The tall  
figure of his master moved towards him, hands  
outstretched.

The black cloaked figure continued to advance.

"You promised to protect me! You said you loved  
me and you promised to protect me and then you  
left me. Over and over again. You lied!"

Qui-Gon blinked slowly and Obi-Wan shivered at the  
concern within that face. "I'm sorry for taking  
so long, Padawan. I tried to find you. I...I  
made mistakes. You made mistakes. We're only  
human, Obi-Wan."

"Can't you see him? He's coming! He's coming  
closer and closer and I can't stop him. You said  
you'd protect me, Master. You promised."

"Who is coming, Padawan?"

He couldn't see it. He really couldn't. Obi-Wan  
blinked, feeling the empty tears gathering behind  
his good eyelid. The promises were lies after  
all. Qui-Gon couldn't see the danger, the  
Darkness running towards them. Couldn't see  
anything but Obi-Wan.

The Light had blinded him.

The face underneath the black cloak was hidden,  
but Obi-Wan didn't need to see anymore. It was  
here to get him, to hurt him again, and there was  
nothing to be done about it.

Obi-Wan turned his back to his master and waited  
for the blows to fall.


	15. Chapter 15

Energy sparked between them, and Qui-Gon felt the  
chill of shadows creeping through Obi-Wan. The  
Darkness was there, strong and content to use the  
young man, but he had to drive it out. Sending a  
pulse of Light across their connection, Qui-Gon  
watched in horror as Obi-Wan's mangled body began  
to twitch, racked with uncontrollable spasms.

Refusing to release Obi-Wan's hand, Qui-Gon called  
out, "Obi-Wan, fight the Dark. Reach out for me.  
Come back to me."

*****

There was a hiss of a lightsaber and Obi-Wan spun  
around, tripping over his mangled feet. "Master!  
Behind you!"

With a motion born from years of practice and  
utter trust, Qui-Gon raised his hand, lit  
lightsaber blocking a downward thrust. The sparks  
flew, lighting in the Jedi master's hair.  
"Master, can you see him? Can you see him? Your  
left, Master, block!"

Qui-Gon blocked, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's  
face. "I can't see anything but you, Obi-Wan.  
What do you see?"

"The Dark! Right before you, the Dark! Please  
see it, Master. I... I'm not enough. I can't  
fight it"

"I'm afraid you'll have to, Padawan." The look on  
his master's face was almost surprised when the  
red glow of the lightsaber burned through his  
chest and he toppled.

Obi-Wan's scream echoed endlessly, mingling with  
the wind.

*****

Without warning, Obi-Wan's free hand swung out,  
catching Qui-Gon's jaw. Grunting at the blow,  
Qui-Gon absorbed the pain, reaching out to stroke  
the younger man's face. "I love you, Obi-Wan. I  
won't let the Darkness take you."

Qui-Gon stood steady as Obi-Wan's foot kicked out,  
catching him in the thigh. He didn't fight back,  
merely spoke soothingly. "It can't win, Obi-Wan.  
We love each other and I won't give in to pain or  
anger and neither will you."

With a horrific shriek, Obi-Wan's body convulsed  
and then was still.

*****

"I'm sorry, Master. I tried to save you, but you  
wouldn't see, you couldn't see..." Obi-Wan  
babbled, looking at the fallen man.

"He never will see, you stupid child. You have  
blinded him." The Dark voice was low and sincere.

Obi-Wan bowed his head beneath the weight of its  
truth. Maggots wove their way in and out of the  
weeping wounds on his arms. "I am sorry, Master.  
I didn't know. I just wanted..."

"You just wanted what, boy? To make him love  
you? To make him need you? To make yourself more  
than you are? Did you honestly think he would  
trust you? He refused you, never wanted you,  
never needed you. He left you."

Obi-Wan sighed. "He came back for me."

Qui-Gon moved slightly.

"You were a burden."

"I was his padawan."

His master's hand reached out slowly toward  
Obi-Wan.

"You blinded him to the Darkness."

Obi-Wan blinked at that and lifted his head. "He  
has never seen the Darkness. He cannot see the  
Darkness that haunts Yoda. He could not see the  
truth of Xanatos. He could not see the Darkness  
within me. He only sees the Light. I will  
protect him from the Darkness."

A lightsaber burned hot within his hand.

"He cannot truly love you, a murderer."

An impossible jump and a twist and Obi-Wan struck  
at his tormentor. The black cloak fluttered to  
the ground -- empty. "It is no matter."

He bent and cradled Qui-Gon's frame in his arms,  
eye searching the horizon.

*****

Qui-Gon could see a hint of brightness in the  
blue-green eye. Moving closer, Qui-Gon carefully  
enfolded Obi-Wan in the circle of his arms,  
accepting.

Obi-Wan relaxed against Qui-Gon's body, accepting.

Qui-Gon felt the wind swirl around them, healing  
energy coalescing, flowing from him to his  
padawan. He carefully settled Obi-Wan onto a  
smooth rock and then scooped up handfuls of water,  
pouring them over the broken body, cleansing him.

*****

At her Loom, M'lss carefully unraveled the stained  
cloth, watching the bodies caught within the Web.  
Gathering her tools around her, she closed her  
eyes, reaching within for the essence of those who  
had gone before her and began to Weave.

*****

He walked with his master, one step behind and to  
the left, down a wide street. Obi-Wan smiled at  
the familiar back, watching the material sway and  
move with his master's confident stride. They  
were headed home from another peaceful, gentle  
mission. The Council was being easy on the pair  
as they adjusted to their old roles of Master and  
Padawan.

Life was finally back to normal.

"Beauty? Beauty, is that you?"

Obi-Wan stopped. Kynen stood at the side of the  
road, his whip in his hand. "Kynen!"

"Come along, Padawan. You don't know this man."

"No, Master. I..."

"Now, Padawan."

Kynen moved towards Obi-Wan and a crowd of people  
followed him. "Strip for me, Beauty. Strip for  
your master."

"No, Kynen, I can't do that. I'm different now.  
I wouldn't..."

The ruddy man laughed and Obi-Wan felt hands  
surrounding him, removing his clothes with surreal  
speed. He looked down at himself, the stain of  
the tattoo harsh to his eyes.

"What are those...things...doing there, Padawan?"  
Qui-Gon's hands touched the rings within his  
nipples gingerly, as if they would bite.

"I like them. I like the way they feel." His  
voice seemed smaller and he panicked, moving  
towards the crowd surrounding him. "I...Master, I  
need them. They're mine."

"Take them out."

Beauty shuddered and shook his head, feeling his  
long hair brush against his shoulders. "They're  
mine, Master Jinn. I want to keep them."

"Obedience, Padawan!"

Beauty felt warm mouths move on his neck, seeking  
out pleasure points and biting down fiercely.  
Hands caressed him, stroked him. "Please, please  
don't ask what I cannot give, Jinn. I'm not your  
padawan, not anymore."

The hands were harder, stroking his cock, pulling  
at his nipple rings. The pleasure and pain were  
overwhelming. Jinn's voice caused Beauty's head  
to jerk up. "You have to choose, Padawan. All of  
this or me. I need a padawan, a disciplined  
apprentice. You must forget what you have learned  
here. You must leave these passions behind."

"Qui-Gon, please!"

"Choose Obi-Wan. There is only so long I will  
wait for a whore and a murderer to redeem  
himself."

Obi-Wan fought to be free of the passion, the  
need. Heart sinking, he took a step towards his  
master, when he felt the achingly familiar sting  
of a hypo against his arm. The panac hit his body  
and he gasped with the sensation. The bodies  
surged around him and he lost sight of Qui-Gon's  
face. With the last bit of coherence, he  
screamed, "Qui-Gon! Master Jinn! Don't! Don't  
go!"

*****

Beauty sat cross-legged on a soft pillow, looking  
at the naked pair in the river. The larger man  
had stroked and caressed and whispered to the  
shivering body for hours. "You can't have him  
back, Jinn."

"What? What are you doing here?" The large man's  
eyes were wild and concerned.

"I live here and Obi-Wan is mine. You can't have  
him back, Jinn."

"And why not? Who are you to tell me I cannot  
have my own padawan returned to me?"

"My name is Beauty, and your padawan is dead. You  
cannot have Obi-Wan because you cannot be trusted  
with him."

Jinn turned to the bleeding, broken body within  
his arms and caressed it. "He's not dead! I...I  
need him. I will save him. I must."

Beauty blinked, face impassive. "Do you love  
him?"

"What?"

"It is no matter to me, Jinn. You do not concern  
me, but I will know the truth of it. Do you love  
him?"

"Yes."

Beauty stood, smoothing his hands over his body.  
"Then, if you want him back, you should come with  
me." He turned, not looking to see if Jinn  
followed.

*****

M'lss worked the threads, watching as the colors  
coalesced into dark bruises on the cloth. She  
gently pushed and pulled, hoping against hope that  
the Master Jedi could be strong enough.


	16. Chapter 16

The chains dug into his wrists and the smell of  
smoke made his eyes burn. He trembled as he heard  
someone moving behind him. The blindfold was  
heavy, not allowing any light, no matter how much  
he moved his head. The hands in his chin-length  
hair stilled him.

"Be still, my Beauty. What shall we learn  
today?" The voice was deep and cruel and Beauty  
grew erect to hear it. Hands stroked down his  
flanks, pressing deep, pulling him against his  
restraints.

His moan sounded like a prayer.

Strong fingers moved on his chest, pinching and  
prodding, before stopping at his nipples. "Today,  
my Beauty, I am going to decorate you. I'm going  
to run hard metal through this sweet flesh and  
lick the blood off with my tongue. Then, once  
they're in, I'll teach you something new. And  
Beauty?"

Caught somewhere between panic and anticipation,  
he listened, waited. A soft mouth began licking  
at his inner thigh, spreading his legs and still  
that hard voice whispered near his ear.

"If you scream prettily enough, I'll leave them  
in."

*****

"Why? Why did he do it?" Jinn stood, shivering  
in fury as he watched Obi-Wan jerk and scream  
within his bonds.

Beauty smiled. "Watch him, Jinn. See his cock,  
how hard he is? What is he feeling, Jinn?"

"Humiliation, pain, fear..."

Beauty looked at Jinn, cruelty in his eyes.  
"Desire?"

Jinn's roar was supernaturally loud, rocking the  
room. "My padawan does not need pain to feel  
pleasure!"

Beauty sighed. "Jinn, your padawan is dead."

*****

The Weaving slowed now, threads trying to recreate  
the forms they'd originated from. The collar of  
M'lss' shift grew damp with sweat and tears.

*****

"Murdered him. I murdered him." Obi-Wan stood  
before the Council, hands bound before him.

"You have become infected with Darkness, Kenobi."

"You have murdered one of your own."

"Smiled as his blood dripped from your fingers."

Obi-Wan shook his head violently. "No! I was  
sick. I didn't have control. Pzed was my  
friend. I would never have willingly hurt him.  
I'm so sorry."

Qui-Gon stood behind him. "Is sorry enough,  
Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan detached his lightsaber from his belt.

"No."

*****

Obi-Wan lay shivering on an ice-cold floor, hands  
scrabbling at the collar around his neck.  
"Please, Master, I'm so sorry. Please find me,  
please help me. Oh, Force, I'm so sorry." His  
body rocked as he attempted to catch his breath.

The pain was everywhere, inside, outside. He  
couldn't stay warm, couldn't find a way to keep  
the Darkness from creeping into his mouth, his  
open eyes, his nostrils. He was lost.

Bootsteps came by, slowed and the clink of a coin  
plinked as it hit the ground beside him.

"Worthless urchins. Get yourself something to eat  
and a bath, boy."

Wrapped tight within his master's cloak, fingers  
constantly creeping to the raw, weeping sore on  
the side of his head, Obi-Wan mourned himself.

*****

"Stop it! He isn't lost! I found him!"

Beauty allowed himself a smile. "You did. I was  
surprised. I had been running a long time."

Those sharp blue eyes pinned him suddenly. "Why?  
Why did you run?"

Beauty shrugged. "It's what I do."

Jinn took a step forward, hands outstretched. "I  
won't let you go again, Obi-Wan."

"My name is Beauty."

"Fine. I won't let you go, either. Not now that  
I've run you to ground."

Beauty smiled and a thin whip appeared in his  
hand. "Prove it."

*****

The bout was moving quickly, 'sabers flashing.  
The burn, when it came, shocked Obi-Wan. Suddenly  
the room was darkened, his body broken and beaten  
and they were back, back to hurt him and beat him  
and he was alone and scared.

His mind gathered the Force to it, trying to  
protect this fragile, broken soul it housed and he  
struck out.

"Obi-Wan, please!" Pzed's face, broken and  
bleeding. "It hurts, Obi. It hurts."

Obi-Wan gagged, the smell of death fierce within  
his nose and pressed his lightsaber against his  
own chest.

*****

The lashes fell, fast and furious. They were  
perfectly spaced and timed, slowly driving him  
towards ecstasy. Beauty's cock was painfully  
hard, jutting from his body. He'd waiting so long  
for this, to know this truth for himself. "Oh,  
yes. Please! More!"

Half-naked body lathered with sweat, Jinn sobbed  
behind him, "No more, Beauty, please."

Beauty turned his head, feeling the pull from the  
chains at his wrists. "More, Jinn. Hit me. Make  
me come from the sting of your anger, from your  
passion, from the bite of your whip."

"I cannot."

Beauty felt a hot rage and snarled, "You will, or  
he dies here, in this Web, for your lack of  
courage. Do not think I will not protect him from  
your weakness."

The lash fell again and Beauty arched underneath  
it, body undulating. The blows fell on his back,  
his shoulders, his legs. The blows to his upper  
arms were a special agony, causing him to pull  
fiercely on his bonds.

The pain escalated and as the blood began to fall,  
Beauty slowly drew Jinn into himself, into his  
mind. The agony was sweet, and as Beauty savored  
it, he shared his passion with his tormentor.  
Shared the desire, the need for this pain because  
this pain meant love and sex and desire. Love was  
agony and Beauty knew this because Obi-Wan knew it  
because...

Jinn's horrified whisper was loud amongst the  
silence. "Because I taught him."

Beauty's hands fell from the dissolving chains.  
"Yes."

*****

Blood from M'lss fingers dripped steadily upon the  
cloth as the bodies with the Web convulsed. "No,  
not both. I cannot lose them both."


	17. Chapter 17

The river was turning cold, the clouds swirling in  
ever-darkening patterns. Qui-Gon leaned over  
Obi-Wan's convulsing body, shuddering. "What have  
I done? What have I done to you?"

"Jinn!" Beauty stood beside them in the river,  
blood slowly staining the water. "Jinn, you must  
focus now. You must remember why you are here."

Tear-bright eyes looked up and Beauty could see  
his reflection in them, tinged pink. "I taught  
him that it hurts to love. I taught him that."

"Yes. As he taught you that you cannot protect  
the ones you love from themselves. That is no  
matter now, Jinn. You must focus."

Beauty watched as Jinn's hand crept up into the  
long dark mass of hair and grabbed the lighter  
braid. With a fierce yank, he tore it from his  
head and held it out to Beauty. "Here, this is  
yours. I don't deserve it."

"No, no. You cannot give to me what is already  
mine." Beauty took the braid and turned it over  
in his hands with a wry smile. "This was my gift  
to you, Jinn. Hope. It belongs to you." Gently,  
Beauty knelt down and pushed the heavy mass of  
hair aside. Jinn's eyes widened as he felt the  
slight surge of Force reattaching it.

Beauty sat, head bent for a moment, enjoying the  
proximity to Jinn's body before rocking back on  
his heels to stand. Jinn looked up at him, brow  
furrowed, eyes moving from the still body in his  
arms to the man before him.

The fierce look of joy of Jinn's face was as  
beautiful as it was unexpected.

*****

"Why, Padawan? Why didn't you come to me? Let me  
help you?" Qui-Gon's voice was soft and soothing  
and echoed in the cell where Obi-Wan was kept.

"I couldn't, Master. I couldn't."

"Why, Padawan?"

"I was tired. I was alone. I didn't mean to."

"Why, Padawan?"

"I was scared, Master. I was so scared."

"Yes, I know."

"Forgive me, Master."

The hand on his forehead was warm and gentle. "I  
forgave you long ago, Obi-Wan. Forgive yourself."

*****

Beauty stood, stunned, in a simple, warm room full  
of books and art and soft furniture. "Where are  
we, Jinn?"

"We are home, Beauty. You haven't been here  
before, but it is your home." Jinn's face was  
serene and content.

"I have no home, Jinn. Why have you brought me  
here?" Beauty felt tendrils of anxiety swirling  
around him at this unexpected reaction from the  
Jedi.

Qui-Gon held out a long silvered braid to Beauty.  
"This is my gift to you, Beauty. A way home. I  
don't think I've told you how proud I am of you,  
yet. My strong, brave love. You have protected  
yourself so well. What a survivor you are, to  
stay whole without a way home for so long."

"I have no home, Jinn." His breath quickened as  
Qui-Gon moved in towards him, hand gentling him.

"Yes, Beauty. You have a home with me, always.  
You will never be alone again." The braid  
attached with a flare of heat.

Beauty picked up the braid, held it in his hand.  
"Woven together...bound. Jinn? Me?"

"You, Beauty. You and I. I have a request of  
you."

"Yes?"

"May I kiss you?"

*****

The cloth began to move, bright strands of greens  
and golds danced together with bright blues. For  
the first time since the Weaving began, M'lss  
began to smile.

*****

The sun was warm as Obi-Wan walked through the  
trees. The leaves were bright and there was light  
and life and...Pzed.

Pzed walked beside him, just within his peripheral  
vision. Neither man spoke or slowed and the walk  
continued until the trees thinned and the sun  
began to set.

Finally they came to the edge of the clearing.  
Obi-Wan sighed and turned towards Pzed. Pzed's  
face was familiar and haunting.

"I am sorry."

"I know."

"Please forgive me."

"There is no death, Obi-Wan."

"I want to stay, you know, but it's time for me to  
go home."

"I know."

Obi-Wan stepped out of Pzed's forest.

*****

Qui-Gon's large hand traced the swirls along  
Beauty's torso. "It's the Force, isn't it?"

Beauty blushed and nodded. "I wanted to remember,  
to focus."

The laugh that came from Qui-Gon washed over  
Beauty, warm and delicious. "You never forgot.  
Shut away from the Force, full of pain, of  
Darkness and agony and you never forgot. You  
amaze me, Beauty."

"I don't understand, Jinn."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Your center, you never lost your  
center. You simply looked for it in different  
ways."

Beauty frowned. "If you say so, Jinn."

"Don't frown so, love. Enjoy yourself. This will  
all be forgotten when we leave the Web."

Beauty nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes.  
"You know I'll be gone. You'll have forgotten me,  
forgotten who I am."

"Show me." Qui-Gon stood and held his hand out to  
Beauty.

"Show you?"

"I want your mark on me, Beauty. Show me your  
center."

*****

M'lss watched as the pattern emerged upon  
Qui-Gon's body, a deep purple echo of the patterns  
within Obi-Wan's cloth. She began to finish off  
the edges. It was time for them to come back.

*****

The water was warm against his skin. He opened  
his eyes and looked up into the smiling face of  
the man he had loved for years. "Hello, Qui-Gon."

"It's time to go back, I think."

He nodded and they stood together. They stepped  
out of the river and onto the bank, allowing the  
sun to dry them. The younger man stroked the dark  
violet patterns covering Qui-Gon's lower back.

"How beautiful. They look like..."

Qui-Gon nodded. "They look like your spirit.  
Come, Beauty, let's go back. M'lss will be  
tired."

"My name is Obi-Wan."

*****

Qui-Gon woke feeling refreshed. Obi-Wan stood  
swaying at his side, weak but whole. Quickly  
slipping his arm around Obi-Wan's waist, Qui-Gon  
supported his padawan. "Obi-Wan, love, are you  
well?"

With a note of tired wonder in his voice, Obi-Wan  
said, "I think so."

Qui-Gon's hands roamed over Obi-Wan's body,  
rubbing feeling into his limbs. The younger man  
breathed in deeply and Qui-Gon felt a ghostly  
caress against his cheek. "Obi-Wan!"

"The Force -- it's tenuous, but I can feel the  
Force." Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as if expecting  
pain, then relaxed. "And the pain...it's gone."

Qui-Gon embraced Obi-Wan, letting his joy and love  
flow around them. He felt a soft touch as M'lss  
draped the cloth around their shoulders, binding  
them together in warmth and love.


	18. Chapter 18

He sat cross-legged on his bed, looking down at  
his body. His tattoo moved as he undulated his  
stomach muscles. He lifted his cock, slowly  
turning the ring. His body was almost foreign to  
him, the designs and decorations seeming to belong  
to another person, another life.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan focused, pushing his body  
higher and higher. Images floated before his  
eyes.

Qui-Gon teaching him 'saber drills.

The sight of raindrops falling from trees into  
sightless eyes.

Qui-Gon's sad face as he looked upon the rings  
embedded in his nipples and cock, a look of  
disgust and horror marring the proud features.

The peaceful smile upon Qui-Gon's face as he  
sopped up the last of his meal with a piece of  
fresh bread.

The Force, leading him deeper into a Dark space,  
warning him of hardships ahead. There was loss  
coming and pain beyond imagining. Qui-Gon falling  
before him, a monster with a red lightsaber  
standing over the body.

"Qui-Gon! Master! No!"

"Obi-Wan? Relax. Focus, boy."

Obi-Wan blinked slowly, looking at the man  
standing before him. "What? Who?"

"Beauty...remember me?"

Obi-Wan nodded. Beauty was fierce and strong,  
wise eyes glinting in his gaunt face. He was  
nude, relaxed and unconcerned. Obi-Wan blinked  
and looked down at his own body, strong and  
unmarked. His padawan braid lay across his chest,  
beads bright against his beige tunic. "You're  
Beauty. You...you helped me."

The laughter was free and bright and Obi-Wan  
couldn't stop the smile that crept across his  
face.

"Helped you? Hell, I *was* you."

"I am sorry."

"For what? For the highs? The fucking? The  
racing? The running? Don't apologize, I've had  
fun."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Then why are you...why are we  
here? If I'm not supposed to apologize to you for  
your pain."

"Didn't the Jedi teach you anything?"

Obi-Wan blinked at Beauty. "You are here to  
protect me from the Darkness, from the shame of  
living the life I did."

"No. I am here because you can't bear the fact  
that it felt good."

"What? Being a whore? Fucking strangers? Losing  
myself in drugs?"

"Yes, little padawan. You think I am something  
beyond you? Outside of you? I am you, Obi-Wan.  
No more, no less. I desired nothing that you  
would not have searched for, sooner or later."

Obi-Wan grabbed Beauty's arms, shaking him. "I  
would not. I am not you. You are not me. I  
didn't have a choice..."

Smiling, Beauty moved closer to Obi-Wan, his body  
hard and sinuous. "No choice? I was your choice,  
Obi-Wan -- your choice. I am the shape of your  
shame and your guilt and your passion."

"There is no passion, there is..."

Beauty's face grew fierce. "There is what?  
Fucking your master. Calling him to you in the  
night. Wrapping your body around him. Don't tell  
me your Jedi lies, Obi-Wan. I am you as you are  
me and you cannot forget what we know." Beauty's  
head dipped, lips crushing against Obi-Wan's.

The passion sparked between them and Obi-Wan  
pulled Beauty closer. Their erections met, ground  
together for one tense moment before Obi-Wan  
jerked away. "No!"

"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan! Force, what are you doing?"

Obi-Wan's eyes popped open. Qui-Gon stood at the  
door, hair wild around his head, face concerned in  
the darkness. Obi-Wan looked down at his naked  
body, floating above the bed. He was erect,  
sweating heavily. Clenched tight in his hand was  
his last vial of panac, unspent.

"Meditating, Qui-Gon. I was meditating." Slowly  
he lowered himself back to his bed and wrapped the  
sheet around himself, carefully hiding the vial  
from Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Meditating? You sounded...distressed." Qui-Gon  
moved across the room, robe wrapped loosely around  
him, and stood beside Obi-Wan.

"I haven't quite gotten my control down, that's  
all. After all, it's only been a few weeks,  
since...well, since we left the Web."

"We're in no rush, Obi-Wan. I don't have anywhere  
else I want to be."

Obi-Wan moved over, giving Qui-Gon room to sit.  
"Are you sure? This could take a long time and  
well, I'm not sure what you're getting out of  
this."

His progress over the last few weeks had been slow  
and often painful. After the first dazed days  
where simply to see Qui-Gon's face was a balm to  
his torn psyche, Obi-Wan had moved into a separate  
room. Qui-Gon hadn't argued, hadn't complained,  
and Obi-Wan had worked on his Force control  
alone. Qui-Gon was never far. They shared meals  
and passed each other in the hallways of the small  
house M'lss had placed them in.

"Getting out of this? Obi-Wan, I've wanted  
nothing but to find you, to know you were safe and  
whole. Just to see you meditate, to watch you as  
you work out, to see you smile when you talk with  
M'lss is a joy. I don't want anything from you,  
Obi-Wan."

They sat together, silent. Obi-Wan felt his eyes  
begin to close and his body relax. When Qui-Gon's  
fingers tapped against the clenched fist holding  
the vial of panac, Obi-Wan stiffened, but didn't  
open his eyes.

"Is it hard?"

He considered lying, and finally just shrugged.  
"It aches. The tremors are almost gone, I just  
miss it sometimes."

"Tell me how it felt?"

At that Obi-Wan did open his eyes. "Do you  
remember our first kiss?"

"Yes."

"It makes the fact that you didn't mean what I  
thought you meant bearable. It takes the empty,  
broken parts of my heart and lets them be filled  
by passion and sex and pain. It feels like  
flying, Qui-Gon. It feels like forgetting."

"I am sorry, Obi-Wan."

"Sorry? For this?" He held up the vial. "Don't  
be. It's..."

"No. Not for that. That is your choice. I am  
sorry that I allowed my fear to control me. I am  
sorry that I pushed you away. I am most  
sorry..." The deep voice trailed off.

Before he could stop it, Obi-Wan heard his voice  
asking, "Sorry for?"

"For not staying in bed that first morning and  
watching your face as you woke. For not tasting  
your lips the morning after we made love."

"Oh." Obi-Wan blinked slowly, mind racing.

"And Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?"

The large hand stroked across Obi-Wan's shoulder  
and down his chest. "I would never ask you to  
remove your adornments. I find them  
quite...intriguing."

"Qui-Gon?"

The robe slowly fell and Qui-Gon turned his back  
to Obi-Wan, exposing the dark tattoo saddling his  
lower back. Obi-Wan gasped at the sight and  
reached over, lightly stroking the marked skin.  
"How? When?"

The larger man leaned into the touch. "I left the  
Web with it. I keep looking at it, touching it  
and all I can think of is you."

Obi-Wan was fascinated. The tattoo was a series  
of deep violet crescents, interlaced with one  
another. Separately, they were very simple  
shapes, but together they created a complicated  
image with sharp points and smooth curves. He  
traced the edges, feeling Qui-Gon's skin jump  
beneath his fingers. "Oh! So soft."

Qui-Gon moaned quietly and turned to face  
Obi-Wan. His face was taut in the shadows.  
Seizing Obi-Wan's hand, he brought it to his lips  
and kissed the palm softly. With a smile, he  
shrugged the robe back on. "Maybe one day you can  
show me how another sort of decoration feels to  
the touch. Good night, Obi-Wan."

With that, Qui-Gon stood and left the room.  
Obi-Wan placed the vial of panac in his bag and  
settled back into the bed before what Qui-Gon had  
said hit him.

He laughed.

The sound was wild and free and honest and he felt  
a small, old scar fade within him.


	19. Chapter 19

Slowly, days Obi-Wan had spent in solitude became  
days spent with Qui-Gon. With his former master's  
help, Obi-Wan built his shields, began his steps  
towards full recovery of his Force-sense, and  
helped his body recover from years of neglect.  
The city was enjoying its spring, flowers budding  
and warm breezes blowing. Obi-Wan found himself  
outside every morning at dawn, kneeling next to  
Qui-Gon, waiting for the sun to rise.

The evenings were spent with M'lss or simply  
relaxing together, developing a gentle flirting  
that built steadily until one man would back away,  
leaving the conversation for less evocative  
topics. Many nights, Qui-Gon would walk Obi-Wan  
to his bedroom door and Obi-Wan would wait,  
wondering if this was the night Qui-Gon would bend  
to kiss him.

Obi-Wan wondered what his own reaction would be.

Time was spent with M'lss, talking about the Web  
and its uses. Obi-Wan was constantly amused by  
her sense of humor, which bit deep and fast before  
being gentled by the weight of her station. The  
men sought her company and her memories, sketching  
out details, trying to figure out the exact  
sequence of events that had so altered their  
paths.

Obi-Wan's body was slowly changing, his tremors  
ceasing, his features filling out. Little by  
little, he began to settle into himself, to sort  
out the memories he had from the nightmares. He  
wasn?t completely convinced the memories were less  
frightening.

Obi-Wan spent much of his mediation time releasing  
his anger, his fear into the Force. They moved  
easily, simply. It was the guilt that wouldn't  
leave. He and Qui-Gon spoke until they were  
exhausted, rehashing the situation, the  
repercussions. The facts never altered. Obi-Wan  
had killed a friend. Then Obi-Wan had run.

The nightmares began slowly, stealing hours of  
rest. Obi-Wan began dreading the darkening of the  
sky as night approached. His former life  
whispered to him, nights full not of dreams and  
tears and regret, but of flashing lights, pounding  
music and drug-induced passion.

He found himself sitting up, late one morning,  
holding his final vial of panac, body covered in  
sweat. His dreams were slowly becoming clear --  
images of bleeding, broken men, lying before him.  
Obi-Wan knew he had debts to pay. Soon he would  
be well and soon he would have to leave Qui-Gon  
again. There was no space for a whore and an  
addict, not to mention a murderer, in the Jedi and  
he would not have Qui-Gon give up all he was for  
nothing. When he was healed, then he would  
leave. "But," he whispered to himself, "I don't  
have to go yet."

The disembodied visage of Pzed floated before him,  
eyes dead and accusing. "Oh, Pzed...I'm so  
sorry. I didn't mean..."

Obi-Wan felt the vial shift within his grasp. The  
panac, the panac would stop these dreams, at least  
for now. He popped open the vial and stretched  
out his arm. The sting of the needle was almost  
comforting because it meant the drug would hit...

Nothing.

Obi-Wan felt nothing. No rush, no metallic taste  
in his mouth. Nothing.

"Jinn!" The fury hit him again, dissolving any  
guilt, any fear. "Where the fuck are you?  
Jinn!" Obi-Wan stormed nude through the small  
house, causing chaos as he went. He found the  
older man sitting serenely in the kitchen,  
drinking a cup of cha and looking at a datareader.

The sight enflamed Obi-Wan's anger and he savored  
the feeling as the cup flew from the seated man's  
hand and shattered against the wall. "My panac.  
What did you do with it?"

A single eyebrow lifted, unmoved. "I got rid of  
it. You don't need it."

Obi-Wan stalked closer, the table shifting out of  
his way with a thought. "You did what? It was  
mine! Mine! I bought it! It belonged to me. I  
trusted you!"

"You don't need it, Obi-Wan." The voice didn't  
raise, didn't challenge, simply stated a fact.

The dishes on the counter began to vibrate, the  
more fragile glasses cracking. "How do you know  
what I need, you sanctimonious bastard?"

Qui-Gon snapped sharply, "Because I love you,  
Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I'm not giving you up to some  
drug. Now find your center and release your anger  
before I do it for you!"

The Dark energy poured from Obi-Wan in a wave,  
buffeting Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master stood up,  
unmoved. "I am not Pzed, Padawan. You will not  
win. Don't make me hurt you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked, suddenly horrified. With  
desperation, he pulled the energy back. It rocked  
through him, bouncing with viciousness through  
newly healed neural pathways. He threw his head  
back, clutching at his temples in pain. "Please,  
Qui-Gon. I'm sorry. Please..."

Qui-Gon took a step forward, looking into  
Obi-Wan's eyes. "Center, Obi-Wan. Drive it out."

He blinked, the pain causing bright flashes at the  
edges of his vision. The energy burned away his  
controls, leaving him gasping. "I...I cannot.  
I'm sorry, Mas..."

"You can. Here, let me remind you." With that,  
Qui-Gon bent and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with his  
own. Obi-Wan stopped. Qui-Gon's breath filled  
his lungs, moved through his body. There was  
nothing, nothing at all but that kiss and his  
reaction to it.

Qui-Gon's lips were firm, warm, constantly  
moving. Obi-Wan sighed as Qui-Gon's tongue  
caressed his. Obi-Wan felt that odd joy fill him,  
felt the Darkness retreat from the strength of  
faith and passion and love pouring off of  
Qui-Gon. The kiss continued, making both men  
breathless, and Obi-Wan moved closer, wrapping his  
arms around Qui-Gon's neck.

Qui-Gon pulled back, ending the kiss with a few  
long, slow sips from the parted lips beneath him.  
"Better?"

"I don't remember you using that particular  
training technique before."

"You're not my padawan anymore, remember?"  
Obi-Wan didn't miss the hint of pain in Qui-Gon's  
eyes.

"I know. So, what am I to you now? Your friend?  
Your pet project?" Obi-Wan couldn't contain his  
smile. "Your lover?"

"My lover. I like the sound of that."

A quick decision and Obi-Wan held out his hand.  
"Then, lover, let's make it true."

"Obi-Wan, are you sure? There is no need..."

He reached over and stroked Qui-Gon's erection  
before bringing the other man's large hand across  
to his groin. Obi-Wan ground his hips, letting  
Qui-Gon feel his arousal. "Oh, there's a need.  
That, I have no doubt of."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and a growl started deep  
in his chest. Obi-Wan's bright laugh was  
swallowed as their lips met again. Qui-Gon  
gathered him close, their bodies undulating  
together. The kiss deepened and stars gathered  
behind Obi-Wan's eyes. He wrenched his mouth  
away. "Bed, now."

A swift nod. "Yes."

Qui-Gon's room was closest, and his robe easily  
removed. The bed was soft and warm, and Qui-Gon's  
naked flesh was glorious above him. Their bodies  
moved together slowly, learning each other's  
textures. Qui-Gon stopped and raised himself up,  
looking down at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shivered and  
forced his hands not to cover his body.

"I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon's chuckle soothed and amused. "Sorry?  
For these? Force, don't you see how erotic you  
look? I've had to force myself not to touch..."  
Qui-Gon dipped down to capture the ring at  
Obi-Wan's left nipple between his teeth. Obi-Wan  
gasped and threw his head back into the pillows.  
"Don't be sorry...I was just wondering if you  
liked it when they were pulled like this..." The  
ring was gently tugged and Obi-Wan bowed his  
chest, hands tangling in Qui-Gon's hair.  
Obi-Wan's body was played passionately, lips and  
fingers driving his desire as high as any  
drug-induced orgasm.

Hands slipped down Obi-Wan's stomach, drawing  
circles towards the soft curls at his groin.  
Qui-Gon smiled as his fingers trailed through the  
small pool of wetness on Obi-Wan's stomach.  
Obi-Wan groaned as Qui-Gon brought his hand to his  
mouth and licked each finger, savoring the  
intimate taste.

Qui-Gon's shoulders were slick and hot as Obi-Wan  
grasped them, turning the larger man onto his  
back. Obi-Wan arched, aligning their erections.  
"Lover. Feels so good, so right." Their bodies  
rocked together, Qui-Gon's hands grasping  
Obi-Wan's slender buttocks, driving the rhythm.

Obi-Wan dipped his head down, demanding a kiss,  
which Qui-Gon gave with a harsh groan, his orgasm  
pulsing on Obi-Wan's belly. The warmth and the  
kiss spiraled Obi-Wan up to release. Still  
kissing, Obi-Wan settled his body onto his  
lover's, gently stroking the large body beneath  
him as Qui-Gon fell into a soft sleep.

His lover.

How different it was, resting his head against the  
broad chest, listening to Qui-Gon's heartbeat,  
knowing that he was loved and not just another  
body.

Slowly, Obi-Wan moved off the sleeping man and  
settled on the side of the bed, hand rubbing their  
combined seed into the flames painted upon his  
body. He stroked the long hair, noting the  
lighter braid that was still worn. With a sad  
little sigh, Obi-Wan stood and headed towards his  
room.

Silently, Obi-Wan dressed in his leathers and  
green vest, packing the rest of his things in his  
sack. Qui-Gon loved him, had given up the Jedi  
for him. Obi-Wan smiled, the thought more than a  
little bittersweet.

"I cannot let that happen to you, lover. You  
deserve better and I have debts to pay. I would  
not have your name fouled with my wrongdoings," he  
whispered. He picked up his bag and headed for  
the door. "I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. I do love you.  
Good-bye."


	20. Chapter 20

Obi-Wan was dancing for him. Qui-Gon leaned back  
in the soft cushions and watched as Obi-Wan's body  
moved sinuously around the fire pit. The flames  
lapped at his bare body, sending shadows and light  
flickering across the beautiful colors on his  
skin. Obi-Wan was the flame. Obi-Wan was --

Gone.

Qui-Gon woke abruptly, reaching out frantically to  
the other side of the bed. The sheets were cool  
to his touch. Not again! He'd finally believed  
they'd made a break-through, that Obi-Wan wanted  
to be with him, to share their lives, their love.

He'd believed that once before...and Obi-Wan had  
disappeared.

He wasn't going to let Obi-Wan leave this time.  
He simply couldn't give up his padawan again.  
Qui-Gon rose, heedless of his own nudity, and  
stormed out of his room.

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan creeping from his bedroom,  
dressed in leather and carrying a bag. Blocking  
the hallway with his body, Qui-Gon stated  
menacingly, "You aren't leaving."

Obi-Wan's face paled, but he met Qui-Gon's eyes.  
"I have to go. I've caused you enough trouble  
already. I have to return to Coruscant and face  
my crimes." Obi-Wan moved forward, but Qui-Gon  
didn't step back.

"You aren't leaving." Qui-Gon slammed his hand  
into the wall.

"I'll do as I wish."

"I will not do this again, do you understand me?  
I swear to you Obi-Wan, I will not allow you to  
leave me."

"You don't own me, Qui-Gon. You can't keep me."

"Keep you? Keep you!" Qui-Gon's voice raised in  
fury, his face flushing, hot. "I have looked for  
you, given up all that I have for you. I have  
turned my back on my family, on your family. I  
have denied my duty to the Light for you! I have  
done nothing but sacrifice who I am for you and  
you stand there and accuse me of wanting to keep  
you?"

Obi-Wan cringed. "I...I..."

Fury unleashed, Qui-Gon reached up and tore a  
picture from the wall, relishing the sound of  
glass breaking around him. "Silence! I have had  
enough of this! Enough of your fear and your  
anger and your guilt. I am finished. You will  
shut your mouth and listen to me or, Force help  
you, Obi-Wan, I will give you cause to regret it."

Obi-Wan stood, mouth agape, stunned in the face of  
Qui-Gon's ferocity.

"Let there be no confusion on this point, you will  
only return to Coruscant with me, Padawan." With  
a glare, Qui-Gon stepped forward, his large body  
looming over Obi-Wan. "Right now, we are going  
nowhere. We will reach an understanding in our  
relationship, then we will deal with the Jedi."

Taking an involuntary step back so he could  
maintain eye contact, Obi-Wan sputtered, "Our  
relationship? I am not your padawan anymore,  
Qui-Gon. You can't keep me from leaving, from  
doing what I must to protect you!"

Another step and Qui-Gon backed Obi-Wan into his  
bedroom. Obi-Wan wanted to protect him -- by  
leaving him. Even as he felt a warm glow that  
Obi-Wan cared enough to do this for him, Qui-Gon's  
anger rose even higher -- separating was not the  
answer. He would do whatever it took to make  
Obi-Wan believe that. "Let me make myself clear,  
Obi-Wan. I can, and I will, keep you from  
leaving. You don't seem to believe that we are in  
this situation together. The blame for the wrongs  
that have been done is ours to share. I will not  
let you shoulder the guilt, or the responsibility,  
on your own."

Obi-Wan dropped his bag, running his hands through  
his hair. He turned slightly away from Qui-Gon.  
"But it is my fault." Obi-Wan spun around to  
glare at Qui-Gon, cutting off his response by  
speaking over him. "All I'll do is drag you down  
further. You should just forget about me and go  
on with your life. You could be a great Jedi  
without me there as a constant reminder of  
failure. I will not let you be tarnished because  
of me."

Advancing on Obi-Wan and kicking his bag across  
the room with a growl, Qui-Gon pushed him against  
the wall. "Listen to me carefully, Obi-Wan. I  
wouldn't be here now if I didn't love you. I want  
us to be able to face the past and look to the  
future. A future together -- whether as Jedi or  
not. That's been the key all along. We are  
incomplete when we are apart, and strongest when  
we are together."

Quivering slightly, Obi-Wan took a deep breath.  
"Who are you to order me around? To decide my  
future? I am a whore, Qui-Gon. I have fucked  
strangers more nothing more than a hit of panac.  
I have slept on floors, in doorways, with people  
who I paid to beat me until I bled. You do not  
seem to understand -- I am a warm body in your  
bed, nothing more."

Smiling dangerously, his voice unwavering, Qui-Gon  
growled, "Let me tell you what I understand. I am  
your master, Obi-Wan. I love you and you are  
mine. That gives me the right to do what is best  
for you." Qui-Gon stroked his hand through  
Obi-Wan's hair, cupping his chin, one hand  
caressing the ring in his nipple. "You will obey  
me, as you have sworn to."

They were both breathing heavily now, scenting  
fear and arousal. "Mine. My beauty. You belong  
with me." Qui-Gon leaned down to capture  
Obi-Wan's lips, the kiss soft yet demanding.

When Qui-Gon released him, Obi-Wan licked his  
lips, reaching up to tangle his hand in Qui-Gon's  
unbound hair. "I belong to you?" Obi-Wan's grin  
was feral. "Prove it."

Seeing the challenge, the mingling of fear and  
need in Obi-Wan's eyes, Qui-Gon forced Obi-Wan's  
lips apart, ravishing his mouth. Qui-Gon's hand  
roamed over his chest, pushing the vest off smooth  
shoulders. Wedging his thigh between Obi-Wan's  
legs, Qui-Gon was reassured to feel the hard  
length of Obi-Wan's cock through the supple  
leather pants. Tearing his lips from Obi-Wan's,  
Qui-Gon demanded, "We will go to Coruscant,  
Obi-Wan -- together -- and speak with Master  
Yoda. Together in all things, protecting each  
other, loving each other."

Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled with hope. "Yes, Master."

That settled, Qui-Gon focused on the immediate  
future. Working his hands down, Qui-Gon cupped  
Obi-Wan's ass, squeezing firmly. Qui-Gon lifted  
Obi-Wan until he wrapped his legs around his  
master's waist. "I want you, Obi-Wan. I want to  
pleasure you, join us together in flesh." Walking  
across the room, Qui-Gon deposited his padawan on  
the bed.

"Yes, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan opened his pants as  
Qui-Gon removed his boots. Wiggling his hips, the  
leathers slid down his legs as Qui-Gon tugged them  
off, leaving him naked on the bed. "I want you."

The seductive smile made Qui-Gon's heart race.  
Settling himself next to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon kissed  
his way down Obi-Wan's neck to his chest,  
detouring to the nipple rings, tugging and teasing  
with his tongue. Tracing the meandering  
blue-green patterns down Obi-Wan's stomach to the  
red-oranges at his groin, Qui-Gon nibbled along  
Obi-Wan's hard cock until he reached the tip. The  
combination of the warm saltiness of Obi-Wan's  
skin and the cool, metallic flavor of the ring  
drove Qui-Gon to distraction.

Obi-Wan buried his hands in Qui-Gon's mane,  
holding on to the long strands as Qui-Gon's tongue  
lapped his cock. When Qui-Gon took the entire  
length in, sucking strongly, Obi-Wan cried out at  
the exquisite pleasure.

Before Obi-Wan could reach orgasm, Qui-Gon  
released him, sitting back, watching him writhe,  
vibrant colors moving against pristine white  
sheets. Qui-Gon settled between Obi-Wan's legs,  
lifting them to rest on his shoulders. "You are  
beautiful, love."

As Qui-Gon leaned down, Obi-Wan reached up,  
ghosting his fingers over Qui-Gon's solid chest.  
"You are magnificent, Master. Please, I need  
you."

Unable to wait any longer, Qui-Gon sucked a finger  
into his mouth then slipped it into Obi-Wan's  
waiting body. Feeling Obi-Wan relax around the  
intrusion, Qui-Gon replaced his finger with his  
cock, pushing slowly, inexorably into Obi-Wan.

Their groans and the slap of bodies echoed off the  
walls as Qui-Gon began to thrust steadily into  
Obi-Wan. The connection throbbed between them as  
Qui-Gon filled Obi-Wan again and again.

Buried deeply in Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon paused to look  
at his lover, sweat-slicked and desperate beneath  
him. A wave of possession swept through him,  
primal and demanding. Twisting his hips, Qui-Gon  
caressed Obi-Wan. "Mine, Obi-Wan. Now and  
forever."

Pushing against Qui-Gon, opened, completely filled  
by this wild man above him, Obi-Wan panted his  
agreement, "Yours, Qui-Gon. Now and forever."

The words reverberated between them, connecting  
them, binding them together.

Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan's cock, surrounding it  
in his fist, strong yet gentle. They moved  
together, sensations climbing higher and higher  
until they exploded, flying through space, bathed  
in the light of billions of stars.


	21. Chapter 21

Obi-Wan sat in the bed, watching silently.  
Emotionally exhausted, they had slept for hours  
before Obi-Wan had roused, dragged from his sleep  
by his restless thoughts.

Feeling the weight of Obi-Wan's stare, Qui-Gon  
opened his eyes, blinking slowly. "Obi-Wan? Are  
you...?"

"Do you trust me?"

"What? Yes, of course." Qui-Gon's face was  
confused, eyebrows furrowed.

Obi-Wan smiled and reached behind him for a long  
piece of cloth. Running it through his fingers,  
he nodded. "Give me your wrists."

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan covered Qui-Gon's lips with his fingers.  
"If you trust me, give me your wrists. I will  
have balance between us, Qui-Gon. As I belong to  
you, you must give yourself up to me."

The emotions were clear in the older man's eyes --  
concern, doubt, need. "Have I not proven myself  
for you? I have followed you, searched for you,  
found you."

"I know." Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile. "Now  
I want more. I want your trust."

The internal struggle was palpable. Fear of being  
duped, of Obi-Wan fastening him to the bed and  
leaving, warred with the desire to prove his  
trust, his love. Obi-Wan didn't speak. He simply  
watched with hungry eyes until Qui-Gon finally  
closed his eyes and sighed.

"As you wish, Obi-Wan." The strong wrists were  
crossed and offered.

Obi-Wan wrapped the cloth expertly, tightly enough  
to hold but not cutting off the circulation.  
Obi-Wan raised Qui-Gon's hands above his head and  
fastened the cloth to the headboard.

Slowly, Obi-Wan dragged his fingers along the  
stretched arms. "Oh, so beautiful, so warm." The  
muscles in those arms twitched and Obi-Wan laughed  
to see it. Slowly he bent and buried his face  
into a warm armpit, breathing deeply. Qui-Gon  
gasped, pulling away slightly.

"Obi-Wan?"

Licking slowly up his shoulder, Obi-Wan moved to  
Qui-Gon's ear and whispered. "Shh, my love. I  
will make you cry out soon enough. Save your  
breath."

Carefully, Obi-Wan explored Qui-Gon's neck and  
ears, licking and tasting. Sharp nips were  
followed by fierce suction. Long moments were  
spent laving the pulsating vein in the arched  
neck, listening for the moans, the soft cries, the  
pleas for movement.

"More, Obi-Wan. Please touch me. Please, my  
love, more..."

Sitting up, Obi-Wan straddled Qui-Gon's waist,  
erection flaring. "More?" Deliberately he began  
to stroke his own hard cock. "You want this?"

Qui-Gon's head lifted off the pillow, straining.  
"Yes."

Obi-Wan smiled and continuing massaging his  
hardness, rolling the metal ring, feeling it move  
through his flesh. Qui-Gon's eyes were bright,  
wild, running from the hand moving steadily to the  
rings in his erect nipples.

"I want you, Qui-Gon. I want to feel my cock held  
between your lips, caressed by your tongue."

"Yes, Obi-Wan, anything. Please, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan slowly moved up Qui-Gon's chest, never  
dropping his gaze. "Oh, you beg so prettily."  
Slowly, he moved up to the panting mouth and  
entered the moist warmth. With a groan, he bent  
and wrapped his hand in the long hair.

Rocking his hips sinuously, Obi-Wan moved in and  
out of Qui-Gon's lips. The suction was exquisite,  
hard and needy. "Oh, so good, Qui-Gon. Your  
tongue, use your tongue...yes! Right there."

Obi-Wan moaned and thrust even deeper for a few  
moments before pulling out completely. Qui-Gon  
groaned, mouth following the wet cock. "Please,  
Obi-Wan. Please."

"Shh, Qui-Gon. We're not done yet." Obi-Wan  
moved to sit beside the writhing man on the bed.  
His flat nipples were caressed and gently grasped  
between thumb and forefinger. Obi-Wan chuckled as  
Qui-Gon arched underneath his touch. "So  
sensitive."

"Yes, Obi-Wan. I wish..." The whisper was harsh  
and full of passion.

"You wish?" Obi-Wan looked up and was captured by  
the need within the hot blue eyes.

"I wish I knew what you felt, what the rings feel  
like."

Obi-Wan stopped and felt himself blush with  
something akin to pride. He smiled and stood,  
moving across the room and grabbing his bag.

"O...Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's face was confused, but  
Obi-Wan was warmed to see no fear, no concern.

The young man rummaged for a moment, coming up  
with a black velvet bag. Slowly, he drew out a  
thin needle and set it on the bed. Moving to his  
right nipple, Obi-Wan removed the thin ring and  
held it out. "I can make your wish come true, if  
you truly want it..."

Qui-Gon's hips thrust and the moan was low and raw  
in his throat. "Oh, yes. Yes, Obi-Wan. Mark  
me. Make me yours."

The ring and needle were quickly disinfected and  
Obi-Wan settled over his lover once again.  
Obi-Wan reached out and touched Qui-Gon's left  
nipple. Slowly, agonizingly, Obi-Wan teased the  
nipple into hardness, pinching and tweaking until  
it tightened.

"Are you ready, Qui-Gon? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Yes, now, please."

The needle slipped in quickly and Qui-Gon gave a  
short gasp, hands tightening upon their  
restraints.

"Almost done. Now the ring. Hold still."

As he pulled the needle back out of the flesh,  
Obi-Wan threaded the ring into the stiff nipple.  
Qui-Gon screamed, hips thrusting wildly into the  
air as he orgasmed. Obi-Wan dipped his head,  
licking at the drops of blood and sending a wave  
of healing energy at the same time.

Feeling his lover's hot seed splashed upon his  
naked flesh pushed Obi-Wan to new heights of  
excitement. "Oh! Qui-Gon!" Passion flowing  
within him, Obi-Wan moved down, between Qui-Gon's  
outspread legs. Gathering the hot fluid in his  
hand, Obi-Wan coated his cock and positioned it at  
Qui-Gon's opening.

"Qui-Gon?"

The older man moaned and nodded. "Yes, love.  
Now! Inside me."

Slow, shallow thrusts of his hips brought Obi-Wan  
deep into his lover's body. The tight flesh  
pulled at the ring imbedded in his cock and he  
stopped, breathing heavily through his mouth,  
trying to hold back the threatening orgasm. He  
began to rock, sweat dripping from his face and  
splashing onto Qui-Gon's writhing form. As he  
came, hips snapping, Obi-Wan bent and captured  
Qui-Gon's mouth.

Falling into bliss, Obi-Wan knew nothing but  
Qui-Gon -- his taste, his smell, the feel of him.  
With the last of his awareness, Obi-Wan untied the  
cloth from Qui-Gon's wrists and wrapped him within  
his arms.

"Mine," he whispered.

Qui-Gon's response followed him into sleep. "As  
you are mine."


	22. Chapter 22

Obi-Wan watched the stars fly by. Less than a  
cycle to Coruscant, not even a day before he would  
walk back into the Temple and answer for his  
crimes. Less than a day before everything  
changed.

The shivers ran up his spine and his pulled  
Qui-Gon's cloak tighter around his naked body. He  
smiled sadly; he had lost the other cloak, left it  
forgotten in some street on some filthy planet.

"All threads have a purpose, Obi-Wan, even dropped  
ones." M'lss' advice to him echoed within his  
mind and he sighed.

"Stop it, Obi-Wan."

The deep voice, full of humor, startled him and he  
sat up with a jerk. "What?"

"Stop it. Come back to bed, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine,  
Qui-Gon. Just watching the stars."

"And worrying. Come to bed."

Fighting back an exasperated sigh, Obi-Wan shook  
his head. "Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

Less than a day.

He almost missed the whisper of Force before the  
cloak began to slither off of his body. Obi-Wan  
grabbed at it, but it continued to move, leaving  
him naked and shivering in the chair. "That's  
cheating, Qui-Gon."

"It's warm here in bed." The laughter in that  
voice was warm and inviting. Obi-Wan shivered for  
two more heartbeats before hurrying across the  
frigid, empty space and snuggling against  
Qui-Gon's warm body.

"You're COLD Obi-Wan!"

"You wanted me back in bed, didn't you?"

Long arms wrapped around Obi-Wan's body and drew  
him in close, warming him. "I did. I don't like  
waking up without you."

"I know."

Obi-Wan rested, head lying against Qui-Gon's  
shoulder, finger threaded through the nipple ring,  
soaking up his warmth.

*****

Drifting up from sleep, his eyes were drawn to the  
yellow bead on his old padawan braid. It looked  
right, somehow, cradled within Qui-Gon's darker  
hair. He stroked it, feeling it's smooth  
texture. Had it felt that way on his head? So  
smooth? Would Qui-Gon keep it after...?

Obi-Wan rubbed his fingers over one of the bright  
beads. Less than half a cycle before everything  
changed and he had just gotten Qui-Gon back, just  
found the Force again. Would they take everything  
away from him? What would happen to Qui-Gon? How  
could he face Pzed's master, show her how sorry he  
was...

"Enough, Obi-Wan."

"Oh! I'm just thinking. Sorry."

Qui-Gon sat up and slid the braid out of Obi-Wan's  
fingers. "Thinking were you? What about?"

"Going back to the Temple and what will happen to  
me, to us, there. It's been a long time since..."

"Since we were home?"

Obi-Wan sighed and slowly stretched. "The Temple  
hasn't been my home in years, Qui-Gon. I don't  
have a home there."

Qui-Gon, fingers trailing up and down the braid,  
suddenly smiled. "I believe I have something that  
belongs to you." Decisively, Qui-Gon moved out of  
the bunk and headed towards the 'fresher.

"Qui-Gon?"

"Just a moment, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan felt his stomach sink. Qui-Gon didn't  
understand at all. He didn't want his braid back,  
couldn't take it back, not now. Before Larquis,  
being a padawan was all he knew, all he  
understood. Things had changed, irrevocably. He  
thought Qui-Gon had understood.

He needed Qui-Gon to understand.

Qui-Gon came out of the 'fresher, holding a long,  
braid in his hand. Obi-Wan avoided looking at it,  
focusing instead on the strong, muscled body  
moving towards him. Obi-Wan moved over, giving  
the taller man room to sit. He closed his eyes  
and forced his body to relax. This is such a  
small thing to give him, to make him happy. A  
small thing.

"Obi-Wan, look at me."

Qui-Gon's eyes were smiling and he held out the  
long dark braid, shot through with silver.  
Obi-Wan looked at it and then looked at the auburn  
braid resting on Qui-Gon's chest. "Qui-Gon?"

"Woven together, Obi-Wan. Not as teacher and  
student, but as men, as lovers." Qui-Gon's voice  
was rough, a faint thread of concern running  
through it.

Obi-Wan took the braid between his fingers. It  
was still warm. "Bound together, Qui-Gon.  
Forever." He brought the braid up to the empty  
space behind his right ear. A bright flare of  
Force and it was a part of him.

He felt the laughter grow within him. "I hadn't  
realized..."

The skin around Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled as he  
smiled, slipping back underneath the covers.  
"Realized what?"

"That I missed this weight. It has been so long  
that I almost forgot."

"I didn't forget, Obi-Wan. I found you."

Obi-Wan nodded and stroked the long braid. "You  
found me."

Coruscant was close, but no matter. Obi-Wan was  
already home.

The End.


End file.
